Retribution
by lostsoul512
Summary: They've stopped the Burning Legion twice, but their struggles are far from over. There are always more enemies to be found, some in black plate armor, and some disguised as allies. In this conclusion of the Betrayal trilogy, lines will be crossed and sides will be chosen once and for all. Retribution will be demanded from those that must pay for their sins- and no one is innocent.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Welcome back, my lovely friends. It's been a crazy ride so far, but we've made it at last to the long-awaited conclusion to the Betrayal trilogy. To those that have been following these stories, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your continued support. To those just showing up now, better late than never! (Though I suggest possibly reading the previous two books, which can be found on my page.)**

 **A few things before we get going. I, of course, do not own the rights to Warcraft or any affiliated characters. I don't even have a proto-drake, okay. I'm a slacker.**

 **A huge thanks to Blame the Priest, who will continue her work as my beta and fangirl consultant. These stories never would have made it this far if not for her, whether it was talking me through plot holes, forcing me to write when I had no motivation left, reminding me to update whenever I forgot, or running through the Hyjal raid a thousand times just to make sure I didn't miss anything. This one's for you, dearheart xx**

 **Finally, with the announcement of Legion, a few people have asked me if I am planning to extend the trilogy into a fourth book that will incorporate its events. I am happy to say that after much consideration, I have decided that I will be writing a story for Legion. When this will be released is dependent on the expansion itself, of course, and the length of time for patches, but I have every intention of touching on the subject in time.**

 **Anyway, I hope you're all happy to be back, because I know I certainly am. And without further ado, I present to you Retribution.**

 **xx -Skye**

…

 _ **prologue**_

The night was perfectly still, a silent serenity that was broken only by the slight breeze that tugged at the branches of towering trees, the moonlight filtering in through the leaves. Once upon a time, in days so long past they might as well not have existed at all, there may have been a sense of comfort in it all, in the idea that this kind of peace could last forever. 

Illidan Stormrage had long since given up on the idea of anything lasting forever, especially peace. The world was no longer the innocent place of his childhood; it was tainted with corruption, with darkness and evil. He knew this far more intimately than most, for that very corruption and darkness and evil dwelled within him, this constant presence he could never quite escape. It manifested in the form of great, spiraling horns that rose from his skull and weighed down his every movement, in the leathery wings that he would be forever cursed to drag around, in the shimmering, pulsating fel energy that had been seared into his flesh.

But that was only the physical proof, the visible and tangible signs of the pure corruption that had taken ahold of his soul and tried with all its might to squeeze out every remaining ounce of goodness. No, the real evidence resided within him, in the darkness of his heart, in the places no one could see and Illidan could not ignore. And on nights such as this, when the world was stilled and peaceful, finding some shred of comfort regardless of the fact that it was always teetering on the edge of destruction, it manifested instead in the form of terrible, terrible nightmares.

They started out slow, soft, and full of light. There was an undeniable innocence to them, one that could so easily be shattered. He was standing before the Well, with a slender, dark haired woman at his side, and he could never be certain which one he wanted to look at more, because they were both so beautiful in their own ways. In the reflective surface of the waters, he could see himself, not as he was now, but as he had been before, when the corruption had not quite held such an unbreakable grip upon him.

"You're going to have to choose," Tyrande said, her voice somehow more ethereal than he recalled, haunting as it shattered the silent serenity of the night.

Illidan angled his head to glance over at her, but she was staring straight ahead, her eyes wide as they gazed out at the sparkling water. "You don't know that," he replied, his own voice deadly low, almost edged with a hint of hostility, though of course it was never directed at her, but rather at the impossibility of the entire situation.

"Of course I do," she retorted. "Everyone has to choose, eventually." At that, she finally turned towards him, tilted her chin up so that she could look him in the eye, reaching out to take both of his hands in her own. She rose up onto her toes and pressed herself in closely, until their chests were pressed toggle and he was certain she would be able to feel the way his heart sped up at her touch. Her lips brushed ever so lightly against her cheek, pressing a kiss to the spot just before his ear. "What are you going to choose, Illidan?"

Fighting off a soft moan, he unlaced their fingers so that he might place his hands on her hips instead, holding her in place against him. Her lips continued to trail down his jawline, to his neck, kissing and nipping lightly. "What about you?" He asked gruffly. "You have to choose too, Tyrande."

Pulling back, she met his gaze once more, flashing a strangely dangerous smile. "I already have."

...

Illidan awoke with a start to the sound of an awful shriek, piercing the air around him and tearing right through the peacefulness of the night. Jolting up to his feet, his wings unfurled behind him as he took up his glaives. He whirled around, taking in the endless darkness that surrounded him, the cursed vision he had long since become used to. Just another price to pay, he had thought, just another sacrifice he was all too willing to make, if it meant he could protect the ones he loved.

But then, the ones he had loved had all turned their backs on him now, hadn't they? And suddenly all of his sacrifices were for nothing.

Glancing around once more and seeing no sign of light to break through the shadows, he began to allow himself to relax. Whatever it had been, it didn't seem to be any immediate danger, if it had even been there at all. It wouldn't have been the first time he had heard something that he couldn't be certain was real; ever since he had thrown away his very soul by taking up the tainted skull of Gul'dan, he had felt as though this was this constant presence looming over him. Watching, waiting, laughing-

A snapping twig drew his attention, sending him spinning around once again. And this time, he was met not with darkness, not with shadows, but with a low emerald glow, flickering and moving and seeming to twist all around him. It was somehow both unfamiliar and familiar, like a memory that he knew somehow and yet had never lived, but it was undeniably demonic in nature. Lifting a single glaive out before him, Illidan lifted his chin in the hopes of appearing brave and impenetrable. "Who are you?"

His only reply came in the form of a low, echoing laugh, filled with malevolence and malice. "I am far more concerned with who _you_ are, Illidan Stormrage."

It took everything in him not to visibly flinch at the sound of the voice. It was dark and alluring, drawing him in without him even realizing it. Still, he forced himself to hold his ground, tightening his hold on his weapons. "Tell me who you are," he pressed, though his insistent tone now sounded closer to a plea.

The fel-tainted aura shifted, circling around him as though it might try to consume him fully. "You may call me Kil'jaeden. And I have come to make you an offer I sense you won't be able to resist."

His words dripped with assurance and arrogance, and almost against his will Illidan found himself lowering the blades, exchanging the glare he had worn for a more questioning expression. "What makes you so certain?" He asked carefully, like he wasn't entirely sure he really wanted to know the answer.

"Because," Kil'jaeden replied easily, and even though Illidan couldn't exactly see him, he could tell just by the way he spoke that he was smirking. "Because if you accept, I can give you exactly what your heart desires."

The words weighed heavily on Illidan's shoulders, the memories of his dream lingering in his mind, flickering images that were almost real enough that he swore he could feel Tyrande's breath against his skin. He wasn't even sure how long it had been since he had seen her, only that he had spent every moment since trying to forget the way that she had looked at him like she had never seen him before in her life, and even longer trying to forget the way that he had felt that single, perfect night that he had been allowed to hold her in his arms, to sleep beside her, to feel her body pressed to his.

So far, nothing had worked. Still he longed for her. He wasn't even sure if it was love anymore, this desperate need for her affection, but he was sure that he would never feel whole again so long as he was forced to live with the fact that she would never see him as anything more than a mistake.

Ultimately, it was this that drowned out any logical thoughts he might have had. A part of him knew that this was a demon, that this creature could not be trusted. But then, he had spent his entire life trying to stop the demons, and that had never earned him anything either, except perhaps a broken heart and more scars than he cared to admit. And Kil'jaeden seemed different, somehow, not like the mindless monsters he had fought before. He hadn't attacked him, had addressed him by name, like he knew him, like he had been watching and waiting for him, like Illidan was the only person who could possibly achieve whatever task he wished to be done.

And above all, he claimed to have a way to make Tyrande his. That in itself seemed reason enough. After all, it wasn't as if he had anything left to lose.

Kil'jaeden watched the half-demon elf with a devilish grin tugging at his lips, tilting his head to the side. "It's your choice, Illidan Stormrage."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey all! Sorry for the lack of update last week, but I was busy enjoying the wonder that was Blizzcon. I have seen the promised land. I have met the peoples. I have played the demon hunters. Ugh. It was the best experience of my life, and I would suggest you all go next year so we can fangirl. Anyway, I've kept you waiting long enough! Mwah xx -Skye**

 _ **Part One**_

 **for some offenses,**

 **there is only retribution**

 **-Dennis R Miller**

 _ **one**_

The Warden Maiev Shadowsong came to an abrupt halt, lifting her chin and glancing around at the surrounding area. The ground was scorched, the trees seared and burnt nearly to the point of lifelessness, the lingering scars left in the wake of the great battle that had all but destroyed the forests of Ashenvale. A scowl etched itself into her features, though underneath the sanctuary of her helm, it was impossible to see.

Kneeling down, she pressed a gauntleted hand against the dirt, her fingers tracing the edges of an imprint left there. "These tracks are fresh," she murmured, more to herself than to any of the others. They lingered a few paces away from her, pitifully small in numbers, all that remained of the once proud and elite Watchers. Most of them had been killed now, just another crime that demanded payment, penance, retribution. Once, the thought of their deaths had filled her with a rage so violent it threatened to tear her apart, but now, Maiev found that it was hard to feel much of anything, and this gaping void that had taken up residence in the place where her heart should have been could only be filled with an ever present lust for blood. She was driven only by her emptiness and her suffering, and the knowledge that it would never be over until Illidan Stormrage was dead at her feet.

With narrowed, silver eyes, she scanned the ground before her, following the charred path. "But they split, see?" She raised a hand to point in one direction, and then in the other, her brows drawing together in a frown as she rose to her feet. "Someone must be helping him."

From where they stood behind her, Lieutenant Naisha Duskbreeze exchanged a careful look with Cordana Felsong. For weeks now, they and their sisters had followed Maiev all over Ashenvale, chasing blindly after any shadow that crept along the edge of her vision. They had no idea where they were, no idea where they were going, and even less of an idea as to how they would ever find Illidan. But, as Naisha often reminded the rest of the Watchers, late at night when they grew weary and homesick, their position was not to ask questions, but to follow the Warden wherever she may go, so that they would always be present whenever she may need them. This was the oath that they had taken, when they had sworn into the order of the Watchers.

Cordana couldn't help thinking that this had all seemed like a far better arrangement when the oath had bound her only to the depths of the Barrow Den.

Ever loyal, Naisha stepped forward, falling into place at Maiev's side. "What are your orders, then, Mistress?"

Maiev clenched and unclenched her fist, the metal of her armor creaking as she did. "We'll split up," she answered after a moment, nodding a little as if to confirm her own decision. "Naisha, take half of the Watchers and follow the left trail. The rest will come with me, and we can regroup further down the coast." Pausing, she turned to give the younger elf a serious look. "If you find Illidan, do not attempt to take him down without me. He is far too dangerous." _And he is mine_ , she thought, but she said nothing more, just turned away and started off after Illidan's tracks.

Cordana heaved a sigh, beckoning to a few of the others and following the Warden. Shaking her head, she muttered to herself under her breath, "I should have been a priestess."

…

If she was being completely honest with herself, Cordana wasn't even sure how long they had been out here, wandering aimlessly without any real sense of direction. She'd tried to keep track; she was sure it had been weeks, at least, but time seemed to blur together and fade away under the darkened canopy of the trees.

Maiev herself was like an unstoppable force of reckoning, deadly and dangerous and strangely beautiful in her madness. The young Watcher found that just as much as she may have wanted to leave this foolish errand behind and return home, another part of her wanted to cling to Maiev's every move, though this part of her only seemed to come out in fleeting moments, most of which were gone before Cordana was really even able to identify that they had been there at all. Perhaps it was because, really, Maiev was all they had left. And Illidan was all Maiev had left, and so by default, Illidan was all any of them had, and even if that didn't really make any sense, it was somehow the only thing that made sense at all.

Now, the Warden was walking a few paces ahead of them, her steps hurried and frantic, her eyes darting back and forth like at any given second Illidan was going to come lunging at her from the shadows. Cordana was following behind her, keeping her distance while still remaining close, and further behind her came the rest of their group, each with varying levels of commitment and devotion. She wasn't entire sure a single one of them really _believed_ in this cause; it was merely a matter of whether or not they believed in Maiev herself.

And she knew it, too. Maiev was not a naive little girl- not anymore, she'd never allow for that- and she was no fool to how they talked. Some swore she had lost her mind, others thought it was far more a matter of the heart. A few, Naisha especially, would defend her honor and her promises until there was no air left in their lungs, but it mattered not. There were barely any Watchers left after the massacre at the hands of their High Priestess, and those that still drew breath could doubt her sanity if they wanted. Ultimately, they had chosen to aid her in her mission, so if they were regretting that decision, they could blame only themselves.

It was the painfully familiar smell of blood and fire that stopped Maiev in her tracks, thick and coppery as it hung in the air around them. Choking back the fit of coughs that longed to push themselves free from her lungs, she took in the scene before her. What had once been a small village had now been reduced to little more than cinder and ash, smoke tendrils still dancing away into the air, broken bodies still strewn carelessly upon the ground.

Carefully, each step planned out, Maiev led them deeper into the destruction. A heavy silence had settled in over them, the kind that always went hand in hand with ruin and tragedy. Try as she might to keep her gaze fixated straight ahead, she couldn't help but let her gaze stray to the deformed, defiled bodies, met in return only with lifeless eyes.

"These bodies have been mutilated," Cordana mumbled, her voice weighed down by sadness for their fallen people. "Do you think demons could have done this?" Archimonde himself may have been slain, but that didn't mean that his foul soldiers weren't still lurking here and there.

But Maiev, with her furrowed brow and pursed lips, seemed unconvinced. Slowing her steps to a halt, she knelt down beside one of the bodies, shifted it carefully and examined the gauging wounds, sliced into the flesh and caked with dried blood. "Perhaps," she murmured lowly, lifting her gaze to meet that of the younger girl. "But those tracks were not made by any kind of demon I've ever seen." Straightening up, she tugged her armor back into place, adjusting the heavy emerald cloak that hung around her frame. "Be wary, sisters. There's no telling what horror Illidan had called to his side."

…

The sea was violent, its waves throwing the boat back and forth carelessly, ceaselessly. From where he stood at the edge, Illidan Stormrage felt the splash of cool water against his face, his forearms and his chest. His fingers curled around the edge of the railing, gripping tightly to steady himself. The wind tugging at his tattered wings, he lifted his head, heavy with the weight of his horns. It had taken a long time to get used to the deformities, but he thought of them now as simply another part of him, another symbol of the choices he had made that had led him to this very moment. In his endless attempts to defeat the demons, he had become little more than one of them.

No, he thought firmly. He may have shared their physical qualities, and perhaps even their blackened souls, but he would never be like them. Even if he had sold himself to their servitude once again, the very reason he found himself leaving behind the shores of Kalimdor. The infamous skull of Gul'dan, merged with his very essence, his very being, had revealed to him many things, and he thought to seek out one artifact in particular that may offer him aid in his mission. Kil'jaeden had found his weakness, had made him an offer he simply couldn't resist, and so if he had to strike a deal with him in order to obtain that prize, it seemed a small price to pay.

A lithe, slender and scaled creature slithered up into place at his side, a devilish smile upon her eerie, haunting face. "Lord Illidan," Vashj greeted, her tone low and hissing and sultry. Ten thousand years ago, she had been one of the most beautiful women in all of Suramar, tall and fair, and her knowledge of this fact had made her dangerous. Once, she had even set her sights on Illidan himself, but some combination of his will and his unwavering devotion to the little priestess had shot down any chance she may have had to know how his touch might feel.

And then the Sundering had doomed her and the rest of the Highborne, cast them into the depths of the ocean. It was there that her beloved Queen Azshara had consorted with another deadly force. Though this, they found their salvation, but the cost of it had turned her into the monstrous creature she had become. Some days, Vashj had remained unconvinced that it had been worth it at all, but when Illidan himself had come to call upon them for aid, she had come to understand exactly why they had needed to be spared. In time, all was revealed, and after centuries of lonely, purposeless existence, she had found her calling, her rightful place beside her new master. Just as he had once served the Highborne, she would serve him now, and share in his quest for power and recognition.

"We are coming up quickly on the Broken Isles," she told him, angling her head to steal a glance at his features. Time and destiny and decision had changed him too, as it had done to her, but in a way she found him no less beautiful than she had all those years ago. Slowly, she raised a hand to place atop his own, but he must have sensed her movement, because he quickly pulled back, turning away from her.

"Ready the others," he commanded. Against the horizon, the shattered remains of his former homeland, of her former homeland, jutted out from the rolling waves. To Illidan, it was just this swirling picture of a thousand colors, blending and bleeding into each other, the aura of a thousand memories he couldn't help but think might have been better off buried in the depths of the ocean. "I do not wish to linger here for longer than we must."

Vashj nodded, but by then Illidan had already turned away. Letting out a small, airy sigh, she threw one last glance at the steadily rising image of Suramar, and felt a slight tugging in chest. After all these years of being locked away, they were finally going home.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I wanted to give a huge shoutout to everyone that has followed/reviewed this so far. Keep it coming, guys! My readers are the reason I'm still pushing through this whole thing. I've been looking forward to giving you the conclusion for a long time, and it's so nice to see so many that have been waiting just as anxiously as myself.**

 **There was a question left in regards to Naisha, so I'd like to quickly post an answer to that. Yes, Naisha is a canon character who was frequently mentioned in Warcraft 3 as Maiev's second in command. She was lacking a last name so the one that I use for her came from a WoW name generator.**

 **Last thing, I swear. I apologize for the shortness of these early chapters. I just moved and got engaged (yay!), and Statistics is literally killing me. I figured I would rather have shorter chapters than go on hiatus.**

 **Anyway, enjoy, lovelies! xx -Skye**

 **...**

 _ **two**_

In all the time that he had spent in darkness, Illidan had found little to occupy his time except the incessant replaying of a thousand memories, some of which he clung to with a fierce desperation, and some of which were far better forgotten.

As such, he had created in his mind an intricate and elaborate map of the lands that had once been his home. He could recall the towering trees, their protective canopy offering passage only to the moonlight that trickled through, the warm glow of their goddess smiling down upon them as they ran wild and free in the days of their innocence. He could recall the columns of the temple, its stone walls impenetrable- or so they had believed, until the forces of the Legion had proved them wrong. He could recall the distant sight of the Eternal Palace, where Azshara and her Highborne had watched over those they would one day condemn with their greed and their lust for power.

More than anything, he thought, he could recall Tyrande. In the days of the childhood, he had so sincerely believed their bond to be eternal. But now, so many promises had been broken, so many lies had been told, and twice as many obstacles had come between them. Illidan was no fool; he knew better than to cling to that blind, innocent faith. Tyrande had chosen her side, had proven just how much their bonding had meant to her.

Still, a lack of blind faith did not mean a lack of optimism. She had defended him before, had fought for his liberation, had shed the blood of her own people all in his name. Perhaps now she thought of him as little more than a demon, a monster, but only because of Malfurion's hold on her heart and influence on her thoughts. If he could just prove to her that she could trust him, that he was, as he had always been, doing only what was best for them all, then he had to believe that she would return to him, just as she had done when she had come to free him from the chains that had bound him for so many years.

Besides, the great demon Kil'jaeden's words still echoed in the back of his mind. Destroy the Frozen Throne, and he would be granted his deepest desire. Even if Tyrande did not come to him willingly...

"My Lord, we've made port."

At the sound of Lady Vashj's velvety familiar voice, Illidan blinked away his thoughts and gave a sharp nod. A thousand years in darkness had allowed for him to archive and remember Suramar as it had been, but even without vision he could undeniably tell that the islands that lay before him were nothing like the homeland that he remembered. There was a shadow lingering over this place, thick and heavy like a mist or fog, and the emerald green stain of the demon armies tainted the lands even still.

"Instruct some of the naga to remain here and secure the ship," Illidan instructed. "The rest of you, come with me. We haven't time to waste if we wish to secure the Eye of Sargeras."

Vashj gave a slight nod of understanding. She knew better than to question his commands, or his vast knowledge of things he should have had no way of knowing. He had explained to her once the transcendence that had occurred when he had consumed the skull of Guldan, and she had been equally fascinated and terrified of the creature that he had become. Illidan had always been irresistible to her, a caged whirlwind of potential, a great source of power just dying to be unleashed, and so seeing him in this new form captivated her in ways she couldn't deny.

Just before turning away, she spared him one final glance. "My Lord," she called out, her voice low and meant only for him. "What of Warden Shadowsong? Do you believe she would pursue us all this way?"

Illidan drew his brows together, scoffing at little at that. The last time he had seen Maiev, she had been begging on her hands and knees for even an ounce of his affection, clinging to an imagined hope that never should have been there in the first place. He had hurt her, he knew, with his harsh words and cold demeanor. But then, she had hurt him too, by turning on him and trying to keep him locked away and all to herself. That kind of madness wasn't love.

"I doubt that she is still searching for me," he said eventually. "I made it clear to Maiev that she could search all she wanted but there would never be anything to find."

...

As planned, the Watchers regrouped a ways down the coast. Everywhere they went, everything they saw, the same waves of destruction assured them that Illidan and whatever forces followed him had already been there before them. Everywhere they went, Maiev was reminded that Illidan was always two steps ahead.

As soon as Naisha and her band of followers spotted Maiev and the others, the young lieutenant fell into place at her commander's side. "He has certainly left his mark," she muttered lowly, not wasting any time waiting for a prompt to speak. Her gaze shifted anxiously around the others. The wounds that had been inflicted on the Watchers from Tyrande's treachery were fresh, and she knew how eager they were to be finished with this task, to leave this entire part of their lives behind them. But she also knew that Maiev would see this through to the end, and as long as she was on the run, so would they all remain faithfully behind her.

"He is not working alone," Maiev retorted. "Many of the tracks we saw did not belong to him. Besides, I doubt even Illidan could inflict this manner of destruction on his own. No, he has summoned some malicious source of aid." A mistake on the part of his allies, she thought silently. They would fall just as he would. She would make sure of it.

"So what is our next move?" Naisha asked uneasily. But before Maiev had any real chance to reply, one of the others was calling out to them, her voice heavy with distress. She whirled around so quickly she nearly lost her footing, and found herself staring down a new manner of beast. This was no demon that she had encountered before, but rather a lithe and scaled monster, all clawed hands and bared teeth from behind a twisted smile.

"Well," the creature hissed, dragging the word out into far too many syllables to sound natural. "A wretched little night elf. No matter, you will prove no match for the naga."

Some combination of a frown and a scowl drew Maiev's brows together, but not before she had freed the umbra crescent, holding it up before her. "Naga?" She repeated with disdain. "Many vicious creatures have tempted our wrath over the centuries, and none have lived."

The naga woman curled her lips back in a snarl, tightening her hold on her long spear. "It is only a matter of time before we put an end to your race once and for all, as we should have done ages ago."

After that, there was no more to be said, or at least, not with words. The only sounds that remained were the echoing clashes of weapons as Maiev wordlessly ordered the Watchers to attack. The naga fought well, but the Watchers fought better, and soon managed to overpower the beasts.

But even when the band of naga lay dead at their feet, the struggles were far from over. Always a new obstacle, that was what this whole thing had taught her. Every time she came closer to Illidan, whether to bind him in chains or to try and steal his heart, there was always a new obstacle.

This time, it came in the form of pillars of smoke, rising off the nearby boats that had been stationed at the docks. Maiev narrowed her eyes as she watched the flames licking at the rolling waves. Her attention was drawn away only when Cordana limped over to stand beside her, Naisha hovering dangerously close.

"Cordana," Maiev said, glancing at the younger girl. "You're hurt."

The emerald haired elf gave a slight shrug. "Just a twisted ankle," she assured her. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Be that as it may, Illidan has much to answer for," she retorted. The wounds of losing so many of her followers were still far too fresh. And even if Tyrande was the one to fell them, she held Illidan accountable just as much as the High Priestess. She would not allow anyone else to be taken from her so easily. A scowl overtook her features. "When I am through with him, he will wish he was still in chains."

Naisha's own gaze strayed to the fires blazing brightly against the distance. "But why would they burn the ships? Surely there must be a method to their destruction."

Maiev shook her head. "I don't know," she murmured, trailing off. A moment later, her eyes widened, her chin jutting out as a look of defiance filled her eyes. "Unless...Illidan must have taken to the sea." Nodding as if to confirm her own thought, she glanced at her two companions. "There is another port to the north. If we hurry, we may be able to catch him still."

Naisha and Cordana exchanged an uneasy look. "Perhaps," Naisha stated. "But even if he did, we haven't the slightest idea where he may have gone. And if there are more naga, we cannot hope to overcome them all on our own. I hate to say it...but I think we need to request backup."

The reply that fell from her lips was instant. "No. Shan'do Stormrage would not provide aid when I asked for it the first time, and I'll not go crawling back and begging for his assistance."

Cordana shot the Warden a pleading glance. "Mai- Er, Mistress Shadowsong," she quickly corrected. "Would you truly risk losing more of us than we already have? We are too few in numbers as it is. There is no harm in trying, is there?"

Glaring off at the rolling flames and the grey clouds of smoke that streaked the sky, she barely resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest like a petulant child. The last thing she wanted to do was request reinforcements from Malfurion and Tyrande; holding a grudge was somewhat of a specialty for her. But, much as she hated to admit it, Cordana and Naisha had a point. She was not willing to sacrifice any more of her Watchers to Illidan and his path of destruction.

"It seems I have little choice," she muttered, turning her back on the flames and the others and everything all at once. "Very well. Prepare a runner to send to Darnassus. I will write a letter to Shan'do Stormrage. But..." Pausing, she glanced back over her shoulder, her gaze flickering between the two of them. "Regardless of their answer, we must carry on. Illidan has gained too much ground as it is."

Naisha let out a slight sigh, giving a short nod. "Of course," she said softly. She would have been a fool to assume otherwise. Sparing one last glance at the Warden, she gestured to Cordana and made her way back to the others without so much as another word. The younger of the two winced slightly in her struggle to keep up, far from eager to put much weight on her ankle but knowing fully well that Maiev would hardly count it as an excuse not to keep going.

Easing an arm around her waist, Naisha allowed for Cordana to lean some of her weight into her. "You need to rest that up," she insisted. "I'm sure one of the others can heal that."

Cordana huffed a little at that. "Please," she retorted. "Anyone who remains on this quest has long since abandoned their faith in Elune. Or perhaps she's abandoned us. Besides, Maiev wouldn't have allowed any priestesses to accompany us, not after what the High Priestess did. No, I can manage my pain just fine."

Naisha knew better than to try and argue with her, especially considering she was probably correct. "Fine," she said instead. "But I still want you to take it easy until we depart in the morning. I'll not have anyone falling behind on my watch."

In spite of herself, Cordana smiled a little at that, but she was quick to bow her head as a faint blush crept into her cheeks. "You are good to us, Lieutenant. Mistress Shadowsong is lucky to have one so loyal as you."

"As loyal as we all are," Naisha corrected.

Cordana was certain she had not imagined the edge of warning in the words, so she was quick to nod. "Of course. We would not all still be here if we did not wish to follow her." Pausing, a frown creasing her brow, she added softly, "Still, to what end? How far is she willing to go over this?"

To that, Naisha had no reply. She didn't know the answer, and if she was being completely honest, she was scared to find out. But something told her that in the end, it would come down to Illidan and Maiev alone, and nothing and no one could come between them.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'll be totally up front with you, I am almost astounded at how happy I ended up with this chapter, considering I wrote over half of it in a note on my phone while sitting on the floor of an empty apartment. I think it's kind of vain and pathetic, but sometimes I make myself fangirl, and I can only hope that my readers are half as excited about things as I am myself.**

 **Have a happy Thanksgiving- or whatever holiday you might be celebrating? Mwah xx -Skye**

 **...**

 _ **three**_

Tyrande Whisperwind had never been particularly a quiet or reserved sort of girl, never one to hide her feelings or bite back her remarks, but she was strangely silent as she walked alongside her husband in the shadow of the former magnificence of the World Tree.

In time, they had said, the tree would heal, along with the forest that surrounded it. The assault of the Legion had left its mark upon their homelands, one that lingered even still, one that had driven them to find a new home in spite of centuries spent defending and rebuilding the one they had previously claimed. In the weeks that had followed the defeat of Archimonde, Nordrassil seemed to have done little healing, however, and the High Priestess feared that the same could be said of the Kaldorei themselves. They were once again left struggling to piece together the remains of a life nearly stolen. They had lost their very homes, and nearly all had lost someone close to them.

The thought made her heart skip a beat as a familiar face filled her mind, but she was quick to blink the thoughts away. It would not do to dwell, she told herself firmly. She had seen Illidan with her own eyes, in the end, or rather the demon creature that dared to impersonate the elf that she had once held so closely to her heart. The winged monster that had stood before her was incomparable to the man that had laid her down in the dewy grass of dawn and claimed a piece of her heart she had not even realized existed. The only thing left to do now was to let him go. She was the High Priestess; it was her duty to light the way, not to chase after shadows.

It was the soft and steady voice of Malfurion that drew her from the confines of her own tormenting thoughts, laced with concern as his fingers reached out to find her own. "What troubles you, my love?" He asked quietly, sparing a quick glance in her direction. Things had been strained between them, to say the least, since the true extent of her betrayal had come to light. He was no fool, and in spite of the time he had spent away from her when the Emerald Dream had called to him, he still knew her better than anyone else could even claim to. He dared not allow himself to think whatever business she had with his brother had been resolved. But he took comfort in knowing that she was her with him now, that in the end she had not left his side.

Tyrande was quick to clear her throat, using her free hand to smooth out the folds of her nearly transparent white gown, draping over her lavender skin and clinging to each curve. "I'm fine," she replied sharply, but the way her voice leapt a few octaves assured him that she was anything but. She must have noticed this as well, because she was quick to turn her head away, allowing her dark hair to fall over her face like a curtain. "I am just burdened by all of this needless destruction. This place resonates with pain and...loss."

"Yet there is hope," he retaliated with ease, never shaking that even tone of voice that resonated with wisdom and power. "From pain and loss comes the opportunity to start anew. Our people will persevere, as they have always done-"

"Shan'do Stormrage, High Priestess." A soft and familiar voice interrupted Malfurion's words as a dark haired elf approached them, bowing her head in a silent apology for her intrusion.

In spite of her usual composure, Tyrande allowed a small smile to tug at her lips at the sight of the woman before them. "Shandris," she greeted, her tone lifting a little. Ever since she had found the young girl, alone and scared in the wake of destruction that had been the ancient war with the Legion, she had felt this great responsibility towards her. Like maybe if she could just keep one person safe, then it would do something, anything at all, to negate the suffering they had all been forced to endure.

Now, Shandris Feathermoon had made quite a name for herself, proving her skills and ability time and time again, and through the years had found herself at the head of the order of the Sentinels. Her pride showed in the way that she held her chin high, even as she stood before the very leaders of her kind. "Elune Adore," she replied, bowing her head at each of them. "Your pardon, Shan'do, High Priestess. But there is someone here insisting they speak to you at once."

Malfurion and Tyrande exchanged a quick glance, both of their expressions etched with curiosity. Ultimately, it was Malfurion that looked back to the younger woman, giving a short nod. "Of course," he replied. "Take us to them, then. Let us see what this visitor wants."

Shandris turned sharply on her heel, her long dark hair bouncing over her shoulder, leaving the others to trail off after her. She led them a short distance away, silent and hurried, until at last they stood before a lone elf, dressed in the armor of a Watcher and bouncing anxiously in place. Malfurion's brows furrowed in a deep frown as he eyed the girl carefully; at his side, Tyrande was none too secretive with the sneer that overcame her face.

"State your business, Watcher," She asked, her voice slipping back into its icy tone, enough that Shandris almost visibly flinched at the sound. Malfurion let out a soft sigh, reaching out to catch her fingers in his own, tightening his hold when she tried to retract. It was hardly a secret, the feud that existed between the Watchers and the High Priestess, and try as he may to remain neutral and dismiss the issue, there was a part of him that had always struggled to ignore the role that Tyrande had played in that, and he had wondered from time to time what the outcome may have been if there had not been far more pressing matters at hand. He was obligated to defend his wife, yes, but did that obligation surpass the one that bound him to all the rest of the Kaldorei? Whatever the correct answer, it was a decision he simply wasn't ready to have to make.

The Watcher girl swallowed hard, her widened eyes flickering between the pair. "I have been sent by my mistress, Warden Maiev Shadowsong," she blurted out, so quickly that the words all ran into one another.

Tyrande did nothing to try and contain the scoff that passed through her lips. "We have heard nothing from the Warden, nor from any of the Watchers," she retorted quickly. With her searing gaze fixated on the girl, she was unable to notice the way Malfurion's own eyes lowered to the scorched earth for a moment, his thoughts flashing back to the audience he had granted her. Maiev had come to him not long before the great battle with Archimonde, and had requested aid in hunting down his brother. But with the threat of the Legion so imminent, there had simply been no aid to offer, and he had been left with no choice but to send her off on her way.

"Illidan," Malfurion muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes slightly. At his side, Tyrande bit down on the insides of her cheeks, enough that she swore she could taste blood rolling over her tongue, blinking for a moment longer than necessary. Malfurion was no fool, and he was hardly blind, but he chose to ignore the way she tensed at the mere mention of the name, refused to acknowledge whatsoever any shred of a hold his hopeless cause of a brother may have still held over the woman that he loved. "What has he done this time?"

"Your pardon, Shan'do Stormrage," the Watcher murmured, shifting her weight a little from one foot to the other, glancing back at Tyrande every few seconds and shrinking under her stare all over again. "Warden Shadowsong wishes for me to tell you that, ah, it would appear that the Betrayer has summoned a dark army of creatures, calling themselves naga, and they seem to have caused a great deal of havoc along the coast-"

"The point, if you would," Tyrande snapped, earning a quick look of warning from Malfurion.

"My mistress is requesting immediate backup," she replied instantly. "She believes that the Betrayer has taken to the sea, and that it is of the utmost importance that he is recaptured. There is no telling what unstoppable horrors he may try to unleash if he is not caught in time."

Malfurion let out a slow hiss of a breath. "I had hoped to be finished with this business when I banished him from our lands," he muttered.

From the corner of her eye, Tyrande shot him a glare. "Banished him for doing only what I had commanded," she pointed out. She would have been lying to say she did not feel some guilt over it all- not for what Illidan had done, exactly, but for what he had allowed to be done to himself. She had liberated him from the Barrows, and she had sent him to fight the demons, and so in some way, his corruption fell on her shoulders. For years, they had been inseparable, looking after each other as they grew up. But somewhere along the way, she had been forced to choose between them. And for a long time, she had been so sure that she had made the right decision. But now, her skin seared with the memory of Illidan's touch, her lips trembled with the memory of his kiss, and she could not quite seem to forget how in a single night he had made thousands of years of loneliness disappear. Now, she was not sure that there had ever been a right choice.

Malfurion chose to ignore her biting words, pushing a hand through his emerald hair, careful to avoid the great horns that arose from his scalp. "Gather the Sentinels," he said at last, looking towards Shandris. "I will assemble some of the Druids." After a moment of pause, his gaze fell on Tyrande, heavy as it tore into her, and all she could do was look up at him through her lashes, barely managing to resist the urge to flinch at his harsh tone. "We will end this once and for all."

…

As she had predicted, Maiev and the others were able to find another dock not too far off down the coast, one that had not been left utterly decimated. It seemed they had arrived just in time, for within minutes the naga were rising up from the tossing waves of the ocean and setting off to destroy their means of escape. The Watchers descended upon them in perfect unison, tearing through them and leaving them for dead, and when only one remained, Maiev was able to force from her the answers she so desperately needed.

It was this information that guided them to the edges of the Broken Isles. As soon as they crashed into the coastline, they descended onto the beach, and Maiev began scanning the immediate area for any sign of Illidan or his companions. Naisha trailed behind her, keeping her own guard up, for there was no telling what new and untold dangers this strange land might hold.

"Even if we _do_ find Illidan," the lieutenant spoke up, "do you really believe that we can defeat him?"

Maiev knelt down, peering at the grounds, then promptly straightened back up and continued on, further from the ship. "Illidan has grown powerful; of that, there is no doubt," she responded. "Whatever foul magic has corrupted him, he is no longer a night elf. But…" Pausing, she drew her brows together into a slight frown, and she closed her eyes, and she thought of their last encounter in the clearing. Snapping her eyes open before the pain could fully take hold of her heart, she shook away the poisoned memories. "But he is not entirely demon, either."

Naisha opted not to point out that Maiev had in no way answered her question. Instead, she figured she would leave the Warden to her scouting, knowing she would be happier on her own anyway, and returned back to their makeshift camp on the beach. She found her way to Cordana, who was sitting off by herself, staring out absently at the seemingly endless stretch of ocean before her.

"Felsong," she greeted, dropping down onto the dusty ground at her side. "How is your ankle holding up?"

Cordana tilted her head to the side, giving a slight nod to her commanding officer. "Hello, Lieutenant. It seems to have recovered now." She fell back into silence, but only a few short moments passed before she let out a sigh. "I don't like it here," she confessed, shifting her position so that she was leaning back onto her hands, her heavy armor clashing against itself with her movements. "Something about this place...I don't know, it just feels off. Haunted, almost-"

"Lieutenant." A sharp voice interrupted her; when they scrambled to their feet and spun around, it was to see Maiev standing a few paces away, her eyes narrowed and her breaths frantic. "This place- these islands- I believe this is the ruins of Suramar."

Naisha's brows shot up at that. Whatever she had been expecting, this was certainly not it. "Suramar?" She repeated. "As in, the ancient city? What could Illidan possibly want from this place?"

Maiev shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. "But whatever it is, I intend to stop him. I will _not_ lose him again."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I drunk wrote half this chapter. Hoping for the best. Maybe Ill have Blame the Priest edit this one….**

 **Also, I just want you all to know that the Illidan book that is coming out in March is probably going to destroy everything I've written, so I'm determined to be done before then.**

 **Sorry for being a day late. I have no real excuse except for laziness and this sudden urge to level a death knight. But in my defense, it's a long chapter, so there :P**

 **...**

 _ **four**_

The ruin known as the Tomb of Sargeras was a run down, decrepit building, made up mostly of rubble and dust and cracked pillars struggling to hold up what little remained. With the entire group of Watchers scouring the island from coast to coast, it didn't take long to find it, impressively large in spite of being almost entirely destroyed. From where they stood now a few yards away, Maiev could make out the entrance, and just as clearly she could see the naga that flanked it.

"He must be inside," she whispered lowly, leaning forward as if that alone could bring her closer to him, closer to ending this once and for all. Straightening up, she tugged idly at her armor, pushed a hand through her pale pink hair. She appeared almost nervous, not that any of the others would dare comment on such a thing.

Turning her head, she glanced over to Cordana; the younger elf caught her gaze, saw the fires burning there and wondered if it was more than a thirst for retribution that could light such a spark. "Felsong, take the others and scout the surrounding area. Take down as many naga as possible. If it comes down to it, I do not want him calling them to his side." Looking the other way, she gave a slight nod to Naisha. "We will go inside and face him head on."

Cordana nodded her understanding, taking a few steps away and gesturing for the rest of the group to follow her. "Elune watch over you both," she murmured, and there was an echoing pang in her chest because it felt far too much like a goodbye for her liking.

Maiev allowed a slight scoff to pass through her lips. "Elune has forsaken us, child. You would do well to remember that. The only person that will look out for you now is yourself."

...

Once the nagas that had been guarding the entrance lay dead, the pair of Watchers made their way carefully into the tomb. Their pace was painfully slow, each footstep carefully planned and measured and calculated, cautiously stepping over fallen chucks of rock, listening for any sign of the Betrayer. With each step taking them deeper into the ruins, Maiev felt her pulse quickening, her blood aflame within her veins. There was an eagerness, a desperate longing to put this journey to rest, because she was so, so tired of running.

But there was a lingering fear, too. The last time she had seen Illidan, she had been this pathetic little mess, sobbing and begging, throwing away whatever remained of her dignity on one final attempt to make him understand that after all this time, after all that had happened, he still possessed the sole rights to her heart. But Illidan had turned her away, had spited her, had made sure she would never be able to forget that she had never been enough for him. She could cling to her anger and loathing all she wanted now, but behind that facade, in the tomb of her armor, there would always remain a small, fragile little girl that longed for him to love her even half as much as she loved him.

Ultimately, she couldn't be sure which one drove her on more, the excitement or the fear. Perhaps it was some twisted combination of the two, because no matter how much time passed between them, no one would ever excite or terrify her like him.

It was the low sound of Naisha's murmured words that drew Maiev from her thoughts and back into the severity of the moment. "I have a bad feeling about this. Like we are walking into a trap..."

Maiev let out a short breath, lifting her feet carefully to step over a fallen pillar. "I know," she replied. "But we must press on. If Illidan finds whatever he is looking for, there's no telling what he-"

The Warden cut herself off abruptly, narrowing her eyes as they fell upon some strange and unfamiliar markings on the walls of the temple. She made her way towards them, tracing the lines with her gauntleted fingertips. Naisha appeared beside her a moment later, leaning in closely to peer at them through the darkness.

"What do you think they mean?" Naisha asked.

Maiev shook his head slowly, retracting her hand slowly as if she expected the single movement to send the whole place collapsing around them. "I have no idea," she admitted. Lifting her chin, she scanned the surrounding area only to find that the markings continued down the corridor, deeper into the tomb. Without so much as a word, she set off after them, pausing to glance at them every so often.

Naisha let out a sigh, though she knew she had little choice but to trail behind her commander. "Follow the strange glyphs," she muttered under her breath. "For all we know, it's a warning telling us to turn and run."

Maiev ignored her worries completely. Soon the corridor gave way to an open room, and in the center there was an enormous statue, somehow in tact despite the crumbling walls that held it. Its cracked marble depicted an ancient Elven woman, dressed in a flowing gown, her long hair framing her beautiful face. The Warden eyed it for only a moment before letting out a single name, so softly whispered it was nearly inaudible. "Azshara."

The word had barely fallen from her lips when they were swallowed up in a chorus of high-pitched laughter. Maiev recoiled, her hand moving so fast to free the umbra crescent it was barely a blur in the darkened chamber. The source of the giggle was revealed a moment later when the slender form of a naga appeared, slithering out from behind the statue. Her lips were curved into a sadistic grin and her tail flitted carelessly behind her. Typically, Maiev would not have hesitated to attack. But there was something different about this one, something almost...familiar in the gleam of her eyes and the hint of amusement that had laced her features.

"That's far enough, little Warden," she said, tilting her head to the side and eyeing Maiev up and down, slowly, deliberately. The night elf curled her lip back into a sneer, clutching her weapon tightly as she stared down the monster before her. This, too, only seemed to further amuse the naga, who allowed another light, almost careless laugh pass through her lips. "Your vaunted night elf justice has no jurisdiction here, I'm afraid."

"What would you know about our justice?" Maiev sneered, shifting her weight from one plated boot to the other. She couldn't shake this undeniable feeling that there was something more going on here, couldn't stop staring at the naga like if she just looked hard enough she might find it in the depths of her eyes.

The naga smirked that knowing grin, the one that sent shivers up Maiev's spine, and inched closer to the pair. From the corner of her eye she saw Naisha tense up, lifting her own weapon, ready to defend her mistress. "My master has told me plenty, I assure you," she retorted. Her voice was airy and light, as if she found this whole thing incredibly entertaining, as if this was nothing but a game to her.

"Besides," she went on, and for a moment she glanced away, over her shoulder at the massive statue, this long forgotten remnant from days long before the ancient war that had somehow managed to find a way to persevere. "The naga were not always as they are now." She looked back to Maiev, her eyes narrow and filled with malice. "Once, before _your_ kind damned us to this existence, we were the mighty servants of Azshara herself, and I was her most loyal of all."

Maiev felt her lips part as understanding washed over her. Her own silvery eyes widened as she glared the naga woman down, her voice little more than a deadly whisper. "Vashj," she scowled. "I had hoped you of all people were killed in the Sundering."

Her expression shifting, though holding no less maleficence, Lady Vashj threw her head back and let out a musical chorus of laughter. "I'm afraid not, dear Warden. The Highborne were able to...adapt to their unfortunate circumstances. But you, well...you haven't changed at all, have you? You're still just a pathetic child chasing after a man who never even loved you."

The words tore through her sharper than any blade ever could. Many details of her past had been lost, either stolen by the passing of time or left locked away in the Barrows where they could no longer hurt her, but the night of the party at the Eternal Palace would forever be branded in her mind. It was the night that Azshara had announced her allegiance with the Legion, the night that she had opened the portals that welcomed them into their world. It was also the night that she had met Lady Vashj, who had made quite clear her own intentions with Illidan, less than innocent as they were. She wondered idly if perhaps she was not the only one that had clung onto his memories, if there was something deeper that had called Vashj back to his side after all this time…

But that was the least of her worries just then. She was far more distressed by the fact that Illidan was in league with the remains of the Highborne at all. They were the ones responsible for nearly all of the turmoil that had ever been unleashed upon Azeroth, had set in motion a long history of events that would ultimately leave the world scarred in ways that were irrepairable. He had worked alongside them once before, had sold out his own people, had stood before Sargeras himself, had branded himself the Betrayer for the first time.

Whatever was going on here, it was far, far worse than she had previously believed.

Vashj was still smiling like she knew all the secrets in the world; she knew that her words had hurt Maiev, knew that she had found her weakness. Illidan kept nothing from his closest confidant, having grown so desperate for someone to simply _be_ there, and so the former elf knew more about Maiev and her pathetically broken heart than she would ever let on.

"Anyway," Vashj drawled on then, giving a slight shrug of her shoulder. "As much as I would love to stay and catch up, I'm afraid I have far more important things to tend to. The Highborne have waited ten thousand years to reclaim their rightful place in the world. And now, with Lord Illidan to guide us, our time has come at last."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Maiev snarled, and with that she lunged forward, the umbra crescent raised before her, ready to strike.

Vashj gave a gleeful laugh, twisting out of reach. "Your bravery is admirable, Shadowsong, but in the end, you will fail."

With that, she was gone, slithering from the chamber with an unexpected speed and grace, disappearing into the shadows and out of their reach. Maiev was fully prepared to charge after her, to demand the answers she so desperately sought. But before she got the chance, a half a dozen more of the creatures appeared seemingly out of nowhere. "Warden, behind you!" Naisha cried out, her own weapon long since ready and lifted as she descended into the chaos and clatter of the fight. Maiev whirled around, using the full weight of her body to spin the umbra crescent in a wide arc, slicing one of the naga clear in half.

When their enemies lay dead before them, Maiev and Naisha fell into place at each other's side, pausing for a moment to catch their breath, though there was little time to waste now that the severity of it all had been made so abundantly clear. The younger elf stole a careful glance at her commander from the corner of her eye, swallowing hard as she thought long and hard about her next words. "Maiev," she said lowly, giving a slight bow of her head. Seldom did she address the Warden by her first name, but in that moment she was not speaking to the Warder; rather, she was speaking to a broken girl pretending to be far braver than she was. "Look, about what she said...about the Betra- about Illidan. I have served you faithfully for many years now, and I have not been blind to the way you felt- _feel_ for him."

"If you have a point," Maiev snapped, her tone far more angry than her eyes made her appear to be, "I suggest you get to it before I lose my patience."

Naisha nodded quickly, took a slow breath and began again. "When we reach him, when the time comes to end this…" Pausing, she looked her directly in the eyes. "Will you be able to do it?"

Maiev bit down painfully hard on the insides of her cheeks, a feeble attempt at keeping her expression blank. "Yes," she replied simply. She had made up her mind long ago that if she could not have him for herself, then she would destroy him. She held Naisha's gaze evenly as a shiver danced its way in between her shoulder blades. "Illidan broke my heart," she told her, hating the way her voice shook as she said it. She hardly ever opened up, hardly ever dared to step outside of her self-created cage where she was just as much a prisoner as Illidan had ever been. "I think it's only fair that I return the favor by cutting his from his chest."

To that, Naisha said nothing, just bowed her head in silence and allowed the Warden to lead them from the chamber, each step bringing them closer to the one thing she both wanted and dreaded all at the same time.

…

Illidan hadn't been exactly sure what to expect in the bowels of the ruins, wasn't sure exactly he was looking for when he set off for the great artifact that would supposedly aid him in his mission. But when his unseeing gaze finally fell upon the Eye of Sargeras, he knew instantly that this was it. To him, the massive green gemstone that awaited in the final chamber was this overwhelming swirl of emerald energy, so thick that it was nearly a fog around him, drawing him in until his throat was tight and his mouth was dry and he could feel the very air around them pulsing with the pure magic.

From where she hovered at his side, Vashj leaned in almost longingly towards it. "It has been many years since I have seen such power," she murmured. "We should take it now, and leave this place."

"Frightened, Lady Vashj?" He retorted, a teasing edge to his voice that reminded her so very much of the bold and brazen boy he had been all those years ago, when she had first been drawn to his raw potential. "There is no reason to rush, so long as you disposed of the Watchers as you said."

Almost without realizing it, she spared a glance in the direction of the doorway. "I assure you, my Lord, that Warden harlot has been taken care of-"

"Not quite."

Both Illidan and Vashj spun around towards the archway, where Maiev stood with her head held high and her bloodied blade at the ready. Her gaze flickered from Vashj to the artifact she could only assume was what they were seeking, and finally to Illidan, where it lingered far longer than necessary. "And I am hardly a harlot, Lady Vashj. One would think you may have had a better understanding of the term."

Illidan stared into the space where she stood for a long moment, watching the way the bright, fiery red with which he had long since grown familiar pulsated with her inner rage. "Warden Shadowsong," he greeted, his tone laced with mocking respect that sounded far more like condescendence to her ears. "You finally caught me. I never doubted for a moment that you would." At his side, Maiev noticed the way that Vashj flinched, as though she could tell the words were equally meant for her, an acknowledgment of her failure in preventing the elf from making it this far.

Maiev's gaze bore straight into him, sharp enough that she was surprised it didn't puncture right through his flesh. "That makes two of us," she replied icily. "And now that I have found you, I have every intention of returning you to your prison where you belong."

Illidan gave a low, humming noise in the back of his throat, his wings twitching a little behind him. "I'm afraid that wont do," he said plainly, eliciting a snarl from the Warden. Beside her, Naisha took a slow step forward, waiting with as little patience as possible for the signal. "I have...obligations to see through, and I'll not let anyone, least of all you, stand in my way."

For the briefest of moments, Maiev closed her eyes, and in the darkness behind them she could clearly see the memory to which she had clung for all these years, the one piece of her old self she still carried around, when Illidan had laid her down so gently and taken her as his own for a single, perfect night. She remembered each touch of his fingers against her flesh, remembered each press of his lips against her own. When her eyes snapped open once again, she found herself facing the horned, winged, hooved creature that he had become, the demon that he had turned himself into. This was not her Illidan, not the boy of her memories that she had truly believed to be capable of loving her with all his heart. She knew this; she could logically rationalize this, and still it was so hard to keep telling herself.

Illidan tilted his head towards the glowing green orb. "With the Eye of Sargeras, I will vanquish my enemies once and for all. It only seems fitting that you would be the first to die."

Maiev tightened her grip on her curved weapon. "You're insane."

At that, Illidan let out a small, amused huff of a breath. "Ten thousand years of your company does that, I guess," he retorted harshly, and Maiev swore that if he could have broken her heart anymore than he already had, the sound would have echoed in the ruined chamber. She didn't understand what had happened to him, didn't understand how someone that had been so good, so caring and genuine could have fallen so far. He had allowed himself to become corrupted by the very beings he had vowed to annihilate.

"You aren't the boy I loved," she whispered, the words slipping past her lips so suddenly she couldn't have stopped them if she wanted.

"Perhaps you just never knew me as well as you thought you did," he retorted. "Now, you kept me trapped beneath the earth. It seems only fitting I do the same to you."

Maiev started to lunge forward, but Naisha's hand around her wrist held her back, and a moment later she realized why. The walls of the ruins had begun to tremble around them, the very ground seeming to shake under their feet. A few chunks fell free, crashing to the floor and shattering around them. The Eye of Sargeras glowed brightly, illuminating the room with its emerald iridescence, and then, in a flash, it had vanished, taking Illidan and Vashj along with it.

"We have to get out of here," Maiev said quickly. Naisha nodded her agreement, turning back towards the way they had come, and all at once the pair took off running towards the exit, dodging falling bits of walls and pillars as the tomb came collapsing in around them. At last they could see the way out, the light from beyond spilling in to break through the shadows of the corridor. Maiev pushed herself harder, faster, flinching with each loud sound from behind them. She dove towards the exit, skidding to a halt as she emerged outside.

"We made it," she rasped, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, pushing her trembling hand through her hair. But instead of a reply, the only sound was of an echoing crash as the tomb came down entirely behind her, and when she whirled around, the last thing she saw was Naisha's desperate, pleading face and her outstretched hand as she was crushed under the weight of the ruin.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: As always, I want to send my thanks to those that are still following along and sending me such encouragement. I cannot express enough gratitude for my readers. You have all made such a positive impact in my life and been there to motivate me and push me through the hardest of times. I love you all xx -Skye**

 **P.S: My chapters keep getting really long and I don't know how to fix it. Drop a comment if you think the length is okay, or if it's too much and I should start splitting them? The feedback is much needed.**

 **...**

 _ **five**_

Maiev stared on in muted horror as the entrance to the tomb came collapsing down with a crash that echoed through the surrounding forests, forever encasing Naisha inside. The seconds that followed seemed eternal to her, an insurmountable length of time passing by her and leaving her completely unaware of anything else except this, and as she stood there gaping with widened eyes and parted lips she could do nothing but replay that final second in her mind over and over, until she was quite sure she had committed the look of terror on Naisha's face to her memory.

It wasn't until she heard the sound of rapid footsteps and panting breaths that Maiev finally blinked, angling her head just enough to see Cordana and the others making their way towards her. The emerald hair Watcher skidded to a halt next to her commander, her own expression frantic as her gaze flitted between Maiev and the collapsed entrance of the ruins. "What happened?!" She demanded, her voice lifting a few octaves, her words slamming together from how fast they fell from her lips. "Did you find him?"

Maiev met Cordana's gaze, motionless, silent and unblinking, and remained that way until the younger elf finally reached out a hand to grip the Warden by the forearm, her fingers pressing into her armor as she gave her a hard shake. "Maiev," Cordana demanded, looking around wildly, sending her mess of tangled and bloodstained hair dancing around her face. "Maiev, where is Naisha?"

Reaching up with a trembling hand, Maiev tucked a strand of her own pale pink hair behind her long ear and out of her face, her lip quivering. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, she felt the hot sting of tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. She tried her best to choke them back, to hide her weakness and emotion away, but still a few managed to slip free, rolling in silent rivulets over her cheeks. "She didn't make it out," she whispered, her voice so soft it was barely audible.

Cordana's mouth fell open, though no sound managed to make it out. She stumbled away a few steps, shaking her head frantically. "N-No," she snapped, sounding almost closer to anger than sorrow. When her own tears came, they were far from silent, but rather great, heaving sobs that shook her body, and Maiev watched as she threw herself at the ruins, shaking fingers yanking at the fallen rocks like she might be able to pull them away and somehow save her. Maiev watched for several moments, wrapping her arms around her torso and allowing herself to shed just a few more tears, because for as long as she had been in command of the Watchers, Naisha had been the only person that had stood beside her no matter what, and now there would be a gaping hole where that unwavering loyalty had once been.

But crying was useless- it wouldn't bring her back any more than any of her other tears had brought back Illidan- and so a moment later she yanked off a glove to wipe at her cheeks before approaching Cordana and placing that same hand gently upon her shoulder. "Come," she said lowly. "There is nothing more for you here."

Cordana craned her neck to peer up at the Warden with widened, dampened eyes, but they were quick to narrow, and she was quick to shrug Maiev's hand off of her. "You let her die," she said, deadly low. "She followed you, this was your mission, and you _let her die_."

Each word was a dagger penetrating straight through her chest piece and into her heart. But rather than let that show, she rearranged her features into a perfect mask of icy composure. "Naisha knew the risks involved," she retorted, tearing her gaze away long enough to look at each of the others. "As do the rest of you. The loss of my Lieutenant is tragic, but it will not deter us from our mission. This is but another crime for which the Betrayer must pay."

Cordana scoffed, staggering to her feet, putting a few feet of distance between them. "How many of us must fall before you give up, then?"

To that, Maiev said nothing, for she knew the only answer she had to give would do little to comfort the elf. Instead, she stole one last glance at the remains of the tomb before locking eyes with Cordana once more. She paused for but a moment, and although no words were spoken between them, somehow that single state said all that would ever need to be said. "Felsong," Maiev said then, her tone returning once more to its usual coldness. "You will take Naisha's place as lieutenant. I trust you will honor her memory by carrying out her duties."

…

The Watcher's campsite was deadly silent that night. Knowing that she'd get little no sleep anyway, Maiev volunteered to stay on guard. She wasn't sure how long she sat there beside the fire, staring off at the rolling waves of the ocean as they stretched out before her. With her knees pulled into her chest and her chin resting atop them, she tried in vain to clear her mind, but trying not to think so much only seemed to make the thoughts even more persistent.

Cordana's words replayed in the back of her mind, the accusation that Naisha's death rested on her shoulders. Maiev thought back to that day in the Barrows, when so many of her own had been slain by Tyrande Whisperwind- was that her burden to bear too, then? No, she told herself firmly. These deaths were Illidan's responsibility. He was the one to be held accountable for them. But then, if it wasn't for Maiev and her ceaseless need to pursue him, to keep him locked away from all the rest of the world, they would not have died in the first place. So maybe...maybe the responsibility and burden was theirs to share. Maybe they were joined in their sins.

Just when she thought she felt a fresh wave of tears pricking at her eyes, tears she certainly didn't wish to shed, Maiev heard the sound of lowered voices coming from further down the beach. She was on her feet in an instant, blade at the ready, eyes narrowed as she peered into the darkness and tried to make out the approaching figure. She made her way to the edge of the camp, careful to step over the sleeping forms of the others. She kept the umbra crescent held out before her, but when the shadows finally gave way to a familiar face, she all but threw it down into the sand.

Stopping before her, Malfurion Stormrage gave a slight bow of his head, seemingly effortless in spite of the antlers that adorned it. "Warden Shadowsong," he greeted. "A little bird told me that you required aid."

In spite of herself, Maiev felt a wave of relief rush through her, washing away a plethora of little fears and doubts she had not even realized were there. "Shan'do Stormrage," she breathed. "I knew that you would come." With his aid, surely they could stop Illidan, just as they had done before, and return him to his prison where he belonged, and maybe she wouldn't have to endure anymore needless bloodshed.

Malfurion glanced past her at the small campsite and the bodies there, illuminated by the flickering orange glow of the fires. "Your runner said that there was an emergency," he said, when at last he had met her gaze once again.

Maiev gave a small nod, her expression sober as she paused long enough to return to blade to its rightful place across her back. "Illidan has summoned an army of monsters to his side, the twisted remnants of the Highborne," she began explaining quickly. "They've claimed control of some ancient artifact, though to what end, I am not sure. My lieutenant is dead, slain by Illidan's hand, and I fear that the others may not have the morale to go on."

The druid listened carefully, nodding along as he mulled over her words. Maiev explained to him that the Highborne had in fact survived the Sundering and, having been cast into the seas, transformed into some horrific creatures with scales and tails. She told him of the glowing green orb that had been stolen, and how Illidan had said that with its powers he could finally put an end to his enemies. "He has to be stopped," she insisted, "before he can cause anymore damage..."

Her words dying in her throat, leaving it dry, she snapped her mouth shut as a second figure suddenly fell into place beside Malfurion. All at once, Maiev's features shifted into a look of disgust as her gaze fell upon the slender, dark haired woman, her gown all but transparent as it draped over her skin. "Tyrande," she spat, each muscle in her body tensing one by one. She had no love for the priestess, nor any of the Sisterhood of Elune, and she had certainly not expected the woman before her to come and assist her in the hunting of the very man that had started their ancient feud. "I must admit, I'm surprised to see you here. I struggle to believe you would seek to aid me, all things considered. What brought you, a guilty conscience?"

Malfurion opened his mouth as though he might attempt to end this discussion before it had the chance to begin, but a quick glance from the High Priestess left him silent. "I seek to aid my people," Tyrande amended coolly. "And I assure you, my conscience is clear. All that I have done, I did because I had no other choice. My Goddess has long since forgiven me for any transgressions."

Maiev's gaze flitted only briefly from Tyrande to Malfurion. "And the forgiveness of your Goddess is enough, is it?"

"Enough," Malfurion commanded, his tone deep and filled with enough warning for the both of them.

Tyrande did not so much as glance in his direction, though something dangerous flashed in her eyes; it was hard to say which of them her spite was actually meant for. "I hardly think that you are in any position to judge me, Shadowsong-"

"You _slaughtered_ my Watchers!" Maiev interrupted abruptly, clenching her hands into fists and gritting her teeth. "You attacked the very people you claim to protect, and you freed Illidan, and you-"

"I said _enough_ ," Malfurion repeated, raising his voice so as to drown them out. Maiev was almost thankful for the interruption, if only because she was sure she had been less than two seconds away from accusing Tyrande of stealing Illidan from her in the first place. "There are far more pressing issues here than whatever unsettled conflict the two of you have."

Tyrande shot him a pleading glance, but was met with only his stern expression, and so at last she let out a soft sigh. "I suppose he is right," she said slowly. Biting down softly on her lower lip, she extended a hand towards the other girl.

She almost turned away, almost crossed her arms and told Tyrande exactly what she could do with her false offerings of peace. She would have, too, if not for the fact that Malfurion was watching her so expectantly, like a parent hovering over his children. And Maiev knew that she needed Malfurion, as much as she hated to admit needing anyone, knew that without the support he had provided to her she would never be able to stop Illidan on her own, not with the naga protecting him now.

So ultimately, she reached out, took Tyrande's hand in her own and gave it an unnecessarily tight squeeze. "Yeah, sure," she muttered under her breath.

Malfurion gave a final nod, going so far as to offer each of them a small smile. "Good," he replied. Glancing back over his shoulder, he went on to say, "The druids and Sentinels are securing the ship a ways down the beach. I think I'll go and make sure they are alright."

With that, he was gone, the two women left on their own. As soon as he had vanished into the shadows of the night, Maiev snatched her hand away, her scowl returning and her arms crossing tightly over her chest. "So what are you really doing here?" She sneered. "Come to try and steal Illidan from me again?"

Tyrande raised her brows, the corners of her lips twitching into a smirk, but it was filled with far more malice than amusement. "What makes you think he was ever yours for me to steal in the first place?" She rebutted. Memories of their night flashed across her mind, memories that were hers alone, and she would not allow Maiev Shadowsong to try and lay claim to something that had belonged to her for as long as she could remember. They had grown up together, had played together, had been inseparable for all their lives up until Maiev had stumbled into their lives, and if she thought she had _any_ right whatsoever to try and take that away from her, she had another thing coming. "Illidan's intentions with you were clear to everyone except yourself."

Ignoring the dull ache that had formed in her chest, clawing at her ribcage and tugging at her heartstrings, she steeled herself, buried herself further into the confines of her armor. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Tyrande had never been particularly blunt or tactless, but something about the Warden brought out the worst in her, and once she started she found herself unable to stop, the words spilling out like maybe if she could just keep tearing her down, she would give up on this nonsensical pursuit and leave Illidan alone. Because even if she had left him, even if she had chosen Malfurion over him, the fact remained that he had loved her first, and the idea of losing those affections, least of all to Maiev, had unsettled her more that she would have ever cared to admit. The High Priestess jutted out her chin, her long fingers smoothing out the folds of her glimmering robes. "Maiev," she said in the most condescending way possible, shaking her head like she was addressing some pitiful child. "Did you truly believe he loved you? He'd been fawning over me since we were children-"

"If you want him so much, then what are you still doing with Malfurion?" The Warden demanded, cutting her off sharply, angling in as if she might actually attack her right there. She sucked in a greedy breath, knowing the next words would damn near break whatever remained of her heart, if there was even enough left to do so. "You know that Illidan would take you in a heartbeat, don't you? You know that he would drop everything if you went to him, right? You know that I've never stood a chance compared to you, I know you do, and you seem content to remind of this fact, so _why_ do you _insist_ on making Malfurion suffer when _you don't love him_?"

Tyrande gaped at her with parted lips for a long moment, her skin flushed and her heart thudding agonizingly loud within her chest. "How dare you speak of my husband," she finally choked out, but something about the words seemed to lack any real conviction.

Maiev caught the shift in her demeanor, knew that she had found her weakness, the metaphorical crack in her own imaginary armor. "How dare you call him your husband," she remarked coldly, "when you stand here and battle me over the love of his brother."

Letting out a sharp breath, Tyrande quickly exchanged her shocked expression for another cold scowl. But it was only a front, and the priestess knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. There was this horrible pain in her chest, settling in like a weight against her heart, crushing her ribs and pushing the air from her lungs, a pain that felt unnaturally close to guilt. Maybe because, in more ways than she cared to admit, she knew that Maiev was right. Long ago, she had been given a choice, and she'd chosen to bind herself to Malfurion. Now, she had spent months distancing herself from him, worried that all along she had been wrong, that it was Illidan she should have loved. But then, if that were true, wouldn't she have known that from the beginning? Her and Malfurion may have had their share of conflicts and disputes, but were they really severe enough to throw into question thousands of years of love? These thoughts were nothing new to her, but something about having them thrown in her face out of spite by her rival seemed to make the world around her jolt into perspective.

Shaking her head, she tried her best to chase the feelings away. "If you think I am about to stand here and listen to this, you are mistaken, Warden. You know nothing of my life, or my choices, and I'll not allow you to belittle me for things that you cannot even begin to comprehend." She left it at that, turning on her heel and storming off the other way, and all Maiev could do was watch her go.

…

In the early days of his life, before his range of movement was limited by the chains that had bound him, Illidan had taken great solace in being able to disappear into the woods, these very woods, though time and trauma had changed them now. Time and trauma had changed him too, he supposed, but there was still something comforting about the silence.

It appeared that the Watchers had managed to take down a good portion of the naga forces, and in doing so had destroyed their ship, the only means of escaping this forsaken island. Vashj assured him that they would procure a new one by morning's first light, but still Illidan felt this great sense of unease, knowing that there were likely more Watchers lingering in these woods. Maiev may have been taken care of in the tomb, but that didn't mean there were others out there that might seek to pick up where she had left off. With the Eye of Sargeras finally in his possession, all the plans were in motion to fulfill his contract with Kil'jaeden.

He had expected this to give him a sense of accomplishment, perhaps some sort of elation at knowing that when all of this was said and done, the demon lord had promised to grant him his heart's desire- Tyrande, of course, was the first to come to mind, the memories of her beauty now somewhat faded and replaced by the brilliance of the light aura that she had become. He should have been happy, or at least something beyond this state of apathy that he felt now, but instead there was just this emptiness tinged with something that felt dangerously close to regret.

There was the repetitive thought running through his mind that maybe possessing Tyrande wasn't _really_ what he wanted. He loved her, of course, had always loved her, and had proven time and time again that there was no line he would no cross if it was done in servitude of her. He may have spent most of his life as Maiev Shadowsong's prisoner, but he had spent _all_ of his life as Tyrande Whisperwind's slave.

But then, even after the night that she had freed him, the night that he had finally been permitted to take her as his own, to feel her and hold her and show her just how much she meant to him, when he had been so certain that she was finally his, that she had realized her mistake and would stand at his side where she had always belonged, Tyrande had still chosen to return to Malfurion. She had lain in his arms, he had told her that he loved her, and she had _still_ picked his brother. So even if he loved her, why would he want that now? She'd had her chance to change her mind, and she hadn't taken it. Why would he want to be with someone that clearly didn't want him back?

Right now, all that he really desired was for these ceaseless thoughts to stop tormenting him. He didn't need to be distracted, not now, not when he was so close.

Closing his eyes for a long moment, he took a shaky breath, tried in vain to exhale Tyrande and all his memories of her right his body. But when he opened them again, he was met not with the darkness and flickering shadows to which he had become accustomed, but rather a distant, blindingly bright light off in the distance. For several long seconds he stared at it blankly, as if he might be able to pull some recognition from it, but in the hollow of his chest, his head was already thudding, because the truth was he would have recognized that light anywhere. Before he really realized it, he was moving closer, drawn to it, and when he stood close enough that it was all he could see before him, he let out a careful, soft whisper, just a single name, " _Tyrande_?"

At the sound of her name, uttered so quietly she almost thought she had imagined it, she could help but let out a small gasp, leaping to her feet in an undignified motion. She spun around quickly, all the color draining from her face as her silver eyes took in the form standing before her, both frightening and familiar.

"Illidan," she breathed, staggering back a few steps and wrapping her arms around herself almost protectively.

"Tyrande," he repeated, this time his tone much firmer. "What are you doing here?"

The navy haired elf bit down hard at the insides of her cheeks, falling silent for a painfully long moment. If she told him the truth, there was no telling how he might react. There was this sense of fear that she couldn't seem to place, and she hated to think that it was because of him, that someone she had loved for all her life could evoke in her any feeling of dread. But with his eyes narrowed and his horns weighing down his head and his haunting stare tearing into her, she couldn't help the shivers that moved up her spine.

"I, uh," she started, but she was quick to trail off. The silence stretched on, the tension in the air thickening until she thought it might just strangle the air right from her lungs. "There...there was a runner, and..."

"A runner?" he repeated sharply, shifting his weight. He towered over her, leaving her in his shadow. There was only one person that had followed him to these isles, only one person that could have sent that runner. But if she was here to offer aid, then that would mean…

Swallowing hard, she watched as slow understanding crept onto his features. The look of hurt that took over was short lived, but it was enough to cause a sharp pain in her own chest. "You're here for Shadowsong." It wasn't even a question, not the way he said it, just this heartbreaking realization that he had been betrayed all over again. But by the time he spoke again, he had traded that hurt in for anger, and it showed in the way that his wings twitched, and the way that his voice shook. "You're _helping_ her? She's trying to kill me, Tyrande! How could you-"

"She mentioned only the naga!" Tyrande interjected sharply, cutting him off. The lie was clear enough that she was sure he saw it, vision or no, and tasted like ash in her mouth. "She insisted that we send aid because they were being overrun by naga, and Malfurion complied. There- there was no mention of you being here."

Illidan gave a short laugh, shaking his head a little, his wings unfurling slightly and making him look all the more intimidating. In a sudden motion, his hand snapped out to wrap around her upper arm, gripping tightly to keep her in place. Tyrande winced at the pain, but any attempt to get free from his hold only made it worse. "Spare me your lies," he growled. "You knew _exactly_ what Maiev was after."

"No!" Tyrande insisted, shaking her head quickly, flinching from the force of his fingers pressing into her skin, no doubt leaving a series of bruises.

"You knew that she was chasing me down," he insisted. "If she sent for help, you knew that it pertained to me. But it matters not; Maiev is dead."

She frowned slightly at that, but thought better than to correct him. Their business was between them, and she was not interested in defending the Warden, not after all the cruel things that Maiev had said. Instead, she shot a desperate, begging look to him, one that she knew was wasted, for all he could see of her now was the way that her light faltered before him. "Illidan, I didn't want to hurt you. Please, you have to believe me-"

"Why should I?" He demanded, unmoved by her weakness and frailty. "Everything you ever said to me was a lie. I believed that you loved me, but you chose my own brother over me. I believed that you had finally changed your mind after that night we shared, but guess what? You _still_ went home to him." Pausing, Illidan took a slow, jagged breath. "You told me that you would always be there, Tyrande. You and me, right? No matter what, it was always going to be you and me. _You_ said that! But I understand now that you have never meant a word you've said to me. So tell me what reason I could possibly have for believing you now?"

Whatever reply she could have given, it died before it even made it past her throat, swallowed up in a whimper as Illidan released his hold on her, shoving her a little as he did. The force of it made her lose her footing, sent her sprawling to the ground at his feet. Tyrande felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes, a combination of anger and sorrow and loathing and regret; pushing a shaking hand through her tangled hair, she tilted her head back to look up at him. For a moment, it was with a look of tremendous pain, because whether he wanted to believe it or not, she had loved him, had truly thought that they would stand beside each other for all their lives.

But in that moment, it was Maiev's words that echoed in her mind, and it was the memory of Malfurion holding her, whispering to her that he loved her and forgave her for all she had done, and it was the sharp pain of Illidan's bruises on her skin, that jolted her back into reality. The Illidan that she had known and loved never would have hurt her. He would have rather died a thousand deaths than ever lay a hand on her. This creature before her now was not Illidan, just some twisted, corrupted demon that had stolen his place. That Illidan was gone, and chasing his ghost wasn't going to get her anywhere.

So she pushed herself up to her feet, dusted off her robes and drew on all of the strength that had guided her this far in her life. She choked back any lingering ache that may have remained. When she lifted her chin to look back to him once more, her expression was blank, her features composed. When she spoke, there was no malice in her words, just pure understanding of all the things to which she had been blind before. "I was wrong to set you free, Illidan," she told him, nodding slowly as if to confirm her own words. A wave of doubt and hesitation moved through her, but she was quick to cast it aside. "I-I thought that maybe we could...that you and I might still...but I see now that you have become nothing more than a monster. You thirst for power, and for control, but neither of these will bring you strength. That is something that can be found only from within, and whatever strength there may have been inside you, I sense that it is long gone."

Half of her expected him to lash out at her again, and the other half genuinely considered the possibility that he might lose control entirely and kill her right there. But all he did was stand there, mouth agape and wings folding back in on themselves. She couldn't tell if he looked astounded or something almost resembling relieved, but decided ultimately that sticking around long enough to find out wasn't in her best interest, and so before he could change his mind and tear her apart, she turned and took off at a full sprint, silently begging her goddess to keep her safe and crying her final tears over Illidan Stormrage.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Ahh! Thank you guys so much for leaving me so many wonderful reviews on the last chapter. It seems like you guys are enjoying the longer chapters, so I'll keep on pushing for something close to that length (although honestly I hope not another five thousand word one because that was just extreme). Anyway, I've been waiting for this chapter for a ridiculously long time, and I'm super excited about it, so I won't ramble much longer.**

 **Side note- If you haven't gotten a chance to check out my Winter Veil story, it would mean the world to me if you did.**

 **Have a great holiday, guys! -Skye xx**

 **...**

 _ **six**_

Maiev stared idly into the fire, watching the flames twist and dance and blur before her, watching the smoke tendrils dissipate into the air above, thinking that maybe if she kept focusing on the flickering shadows and sparks, it might offer enough of a distraction for her to forget all about Tyrande and Illidan and Naisha.

So far, it hadn't proven all that effective, but it was all she had to keep herself occupied anyway. As soon as the High Priestess had stormed off, Maiev had taken it upon herself to resume her watch, refusing to let any of the others take over for her. She didn't want sleep. She didn't even want to sit here throughout the night, because every second they wasted was a second that Illidan was allowed to get further away. Seeing him, being so close to him, and knowing that he had once again stolen something from her, has evoked a whole new rage within her. She could not allow him to get away again or to take any more lives.

She turned her gaze away from the fire then, looking instead to Malfurion where he sat across from her. Once their boat had been secured, the Sentinels and Druids had come to join the others in getting a few hours of much needed rest before they continued on their search. It seemed that their leader was about as interested in sleep as Maiev was, if the way he sat perfectly still and gazed off at the distant forest was any indication. Feeling the sudden weight of the silence, she heaved a loud sigh, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. "Are you sure you should let those Druids sleep?" She blurted out, because she needed to say something, and it was the first thing that came to mind. "We have to leave in the morning, you know, and I'll not be delayed because they don't want to wake up."

The humor was not entirely lost on Malfurion, though his reply was little more than a faint twitching at the corner of his mouth. Then he was all serious again, glistening eyes scanning for even the faintest sign of movement. Just when Maiev thought she might ask him if everything was okay, he spoke up on his own. "It isn't like Tyrande to just disappear like this."

Maiev resisted the urge to scowl at the mere mention of the name, just as she resisted the urge to ask how he could possibly know what it was or was not like Tyrande to do, when he had spent almost his entire life in the Emerald Dream. Still, it wasn't really her place to comment on their relationship, and she wasn't looking to start a fight with the elder elf, not when she so desperately needed his help if she ever wished to see the end of this mission. Instead, she pushed a hand through her pastel hair and stared off idly at the ocean before them. "I'm sure she's alright," she muttered. "She probably just...needed to calm down or something."

Malfurion only shrugged at that. But any reply he might have thought up would have been wasted, because a moment later there came the soft sound of quietly approaching footsteps, and then Tyrande was appearing before them. Her cheeks were flushed and her gaze was distance, her hands trembling as they smoothed out her robes. She flashed a small smile, painfully forced, and lowered herself to sit at Malfurion's side. His arm moved instantly to encircle her waist, pulling her in closer against her side, and Maiev watched curiously as she leaned into his touch, where she might have once shied away. If she hadn't known better, she might have thought that her words had actually made some kind of impact upon the priestess.

"Tyrande," he said softly. "I was starting to worry."

"I did not mean to cause alarm," she answered in a far away tone, bowing her head as she did. When she lifted it once more, it was Maiev that her gaze settled upon, boring into her. "I found Illidan," she said then, her voice quivering a little as she did.

Instantly, Malfurion tensed up at her side. "Are you alright?" He urged, his tone becoming frantic. "Did he hurt you?"

Tyrande shook her head quickly. "No," she lied, thankful that her husband couldn't sense the deceit in her voice. Swallowing hard, she held the Warden's gaze all the while, this silent, unspoken conversation being held between them, even if they weren't fully aware of it. Because in spite of all of their differences, the two of them would always share this one thing, this one understanding of just how horrible it was to love Illidan Stormrage. They would always be bound in their misery of losing him. And after her accidental meeting with him that night, Tyrande could see now that there was nothing left in him to save. There was nothing left that had not been corrupted in some way. And so loathing Maiev for wanting him, for wanting to end him, seemed pointless now. Maiev had no interest in destroying Illidan; he had done that to himself. Maiev was only looking to destroy the demon that he had become.

"No," she repeated again, this time more firmly. "But I see now that Illidan is beyond any hope of salvation. I had thought…" Her voice lodging in her throat, she closed her eyes and sucky in a shaky, greedy breath, letting it out slowly through parted lips. When her eyelids fluttered open again, it was to see both Malfurion and Maiev watching her carefully, wordlessly telling her to go on. "I had thought that perhaps there might still be a way to save him. To...undo whatever curse has fallen upon me. But I know now that such a thing cannot be done. That...he...it isn't Illidan anymore."

Maiev let out a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. For a single moment, in spite of everything, years and years of blind hatred she had been carrying in her heart for the other woman, she felt a pang of sympathy for her. She felt sorry for her, and for the pain in her eyes as she realized what Maiev had known all along, that Illidan was a lost cause. She felt sorry, and she sympathized, because in that moment she wasn't even looking at Tyrande Whisperwind- she was looking at herself. She was looking at the pitifully, tragically hopeful girl that she had locked inside herself so long ago. There was an understanding between them now, and although it may not have been enough to erase thousands of years of resentment, it was enough to make them understand that here and now, there were bigger things going on, and that carrying on and fighting each other over a man that didn't even exist now was pointless.

After a seemingly endless moment, Maiev gave a short, single nod. No words, no apologies, nothing but a slight dip of her chin. Somehow, that was enough.

Turning away then, she drew her emerald cloak tightly around herself, trying to block out the chill that has suddenly settled in upon her. "Very well," she murmured. "At dawn, we leave. And we find him, and we put an end to this."

...

They searched every inch of the island. The Watchers, Sentinels and Druids broke apart and scoured the entire place in search of Illidan and the naga, only to trudge back to the camp in defeat. With a deadly glare on her face, Maiev listened over and over in disappointment as they told her that he had somehow managed to disappear quite literally overnight.

It was some time into the day when one of the Druids returned, shifting gracefully from the form of a bird back into his elven body as he came before the Warden. "Mistress Shadowsong," he said hurriedly. "We spotted a ship a ways off the coast, due east. Surrounded by naga."

She whirled around to face him fully, clenching her hands into fists at her sides, narrowing her silvery eyes. Illidan had managed to escape, then. She'd had him cornered, had him trapped, and now he was gone again. A fiery rage moved through her, but there was something safe and familiar about the way that it burned, because for a long time, this was all she had known. It almost frightened her to think of what might happen when she had finally gotten her retribution and the fire flickered out once and for all.

Finally, she regarded the Druid. "Alert Shan'do Stormrage and the others, then," she ordered. "We mustn't let him get too far ahead."

The unlikely group worked fast, for they knew that time was incredibly valuable if they wished to put an end to whatever devious scheme Illidan had in the works. Every so often when she closed her eyes, she could see how he had looked in the emerald glow of the Eye of Sargeras, and she could hear his voice, low and deadly, telling her that soon he could destroy all of his enemies once and for all. She'd thought about that moment many times through the night, tried to piece together his insanity into something that made sense.

Whatever it was that he was planning, one thing was certain- she needed to stop him before he managed to succeed.

…

By the time they reached land again, Maiev would have been content never to see the ocean again. She'd been sick to her stomach from the moment they departed, some combination of discomfort from being tossed about the ship and the ceaseless anxiety that came with her desperate longing. She was the first one to step onto land, closing her eyes and breathing in the thick, salty air as she tried to become familiar once again with the steady, solid ground.

Some time later, when she had finally managed to stop feeling like she might faint at any given moment, the high priestess fell into place beside her. "What is this place?" She asked, her gaze scanning the area before them. The trees were towering and thick, creating a dark shadow that fell over them and blotted out the light. There was a faint mist that seemed to cling to the very air around them, and the ground was blackened and decayed. It filled Tyrande with a great pain to see a land so desecrated and befouled as this one had been, just as her own home had been in the days that had followed the great Sundering. But the world had long since healed itself from that devastation. Whatever had caused this was something different, but something no less tainted, corrupted and evil.

If she had thought herself to be distressed by the sight before her, it was nothing in comparison to the ache that Malfurion felt within his own heart. Being a Druid gave him a deep connection to all of nature, to the very earth, and so the death that had been brought upon these forests resonated within him. He could all but hear the spirits of the woods crying out in his mind, pleading for healing. Tyrande stole a sidelong glance at her husband, saw the raw agony in his eyes, and almost without realizing it reached out to lace their fingers together.

"This is...Lordaeron," Malfurion murmured quietly, slowly and unsurely, closing his eyes and focusing on the residual energy in the air around him. He could feel it there, pulsating. Weakened, but still there.

The name seemed vaguely familiar to Tyrande, who knit her brows and thought on it for a moment. "Isn't that where the Proudmoore girl was from?" She said then, recalling briefly the heartbreakingly young face of the little blonde mage girl that had offered her aid to them when Archimonde had sought to bring destruction to them and the Well and all of the world. Though she had been reluctant to accept aid from outsiders at first, Tyrande had found that the alliance with the orcs and humans that had come to their side had proven to be what saved them after all.

Malfurion nodded slowly. "These forests have suffered grievously," he told the others. "I think I shall go and commune with the land, see if I might be able to find some way to help."

Maiev knitted her brows together slightly, clearly unconvinced by his words, but she knew better than to question the methods of Druids. Instead, she gave a short nod, glancing sideways at Tyrande. "We will scout this area, then," she responded. "See if we can pick up any trail Illidan may have left behind."

Malfurion took his leave then, disappearing into the shadows and fog. Once he had vanished from sight, the priestess turned to the others, ordering them to secure the ships and set up a base. Maiev made her way to the Watchers, who had moved to stand away from the others, isolated and closed off as ever.

"Orders, Warden?" Cordana asked, straightening up and daring to meet Maiev's stare. She had been painfully silent in the time following Naisha's death, and there was a defiant gleam in her gaze that left the elder elf feeling uncomfortable. She couldn't have any disorder in her group, not when there were so few left and they were so close to finishing what they had started. If Cordana was to blame her for the death of her former lieutenant, so be it, but she wouldn't have anyone challenging her authority. She had led the Watchers for ten thousand years, and she would continue to do so until she drew her last breath. It was her sole purpose now. It was all she had left.

"Split up," she said finally. "Half of you scout the south, and the others scout the east. The High Priestess and I will head north and see what we discover."

Cordana gave a slight scoff. "How can you stand to be near her, knowing what she did to the others in the Barrow?"

Maiev shot her a warning glance. "Tyrande is aware of her transgressions," she answered firmly. She recalled clearly the way the navy haired woman had looked when she had returned to their camp, the pain in her eyes when she had finally come to accept that whatever it was about Illidan she had loved, it was no longer there. Yes, she was quite sure that Tyrande understood now her faults, her failures, and her misplaced trust. She was sure that the priestess felt completely the pain of her guilt. "Besides," she added then. "She came to our aid when we needed help."

"I don't think that it was us she was coming for," Cordana muttered.

To that, Maiev had nothing more to say. "Just start scouting," she growled out quickly. "We've wasted enough time as it is."

…

Tyrande and Maiev were mostly silent as they moved through the woods, scanning each area for any sign that Illidan and his followers had been there before them. There was a heavy, uncomfortable sort of silence that settled in around them, a tension between them that was palpable. But it wasn't as if they had any common ground upon which they might make a conversation. Even in the distant days when Maiev had been studying to join the Sisterhood of Elune, days that now seemed almost entirely forgotten to her, like the faded memory of a dream, they had never really seen eye to eye.

Instead, Maiev threw herself entirely into the hunt, the only thing she knew how to do now. Tyrande seemed only half as interested as her; mostly, she floated gracefully behind her, lost to her own thoughts, and Maiev couldn't be bothered to pay attention to her.

It was some time later, when the sun had made its way across the sky and the darkness of the destroyed forests somehow grew darker still, that Maiev heard the frightening sounds of rustling branches and snapping twigs. She halted immediately, reaching over her shoulder to free the umbra crescent, straightening up as she glanced in every direction.

"What was that?" Tyrande whispered, closing in beside her.

Maiev said nothing, just kept on gazing into the shadows in the hopes that they might form some coherent shape. But when they did, she found herself wishing they hadn't, which was all that she had time to think before a group of undead were descending upon them from all sides. Maiev had but a few brief seconds to process the shambling forms of skeletons coming towards her before she had lunged into battle, every thought flickering out as her focus was rerouted to the arcing swings that sliced through the horrendous creatures. Tyrande danced away from her side, out of the way of both the attacks of the Warden and those of the undead, staggering back towards the trees. With a prayer upon her lips and the burning light of her Goddess at her fingertips, she released a brilliant blaze of divine energy into the mass.

Just when they thought they might have made some progress, more would come barreling towards them, and soon both were left weakened and exhausted from the seemingly endless battle. Maiev spun around, felt her blade collide with another skeleton, heard the sickeningly loud crack of bones under steel. But the sound of the fight was drowned out by a sudden, loud shout that rose over the echoing chaos, just a single word that she heard clearly- " _Fireball!"_

Before she so much as had time to glance over her shoulder, Maiev was being shoved to the ground as a searing hot blast of fire moved past her and sent the last of the undead up in flames. Losing her footing as she was caught off guard, he collapsed with a heavy weight upon her and a tangled mess of golden hair falling into her face. As she tried to regain the breath that had been knocked right from her lungs, the figure lifted their head, grinning down at her. "My apologies," he drawled, although his tone was anything but sympathetic.

A deep glare etched itself into her features. "Get off me," she hissed through gritted teeth, giving him an abrupt shove that sent him rolling into the dirt.

The blonde chuckled as he pushed himself into a sitting position and tucked his hair back behind his ears. "That's not a command I hear very often."

Before Maiev could spit out whatever biting remark had been forming on her tongue, a second figure blinked into appearance from thin air, a lithe dark haired man that quickly reached out a hand towards the blonde. "Are you alright?" He asked hurriedly, frantically, as he pulled the other man up to his feet.

The blonde rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine, Rommath," he retorted, but the words were laced with a definitive underlying affection. Working quickly to dust off his deep crimson robes, he turned back towards the night elf, offering her assistance, which she promptly ignored and opted instead to push herself up on her own.

Tyrande rushed to her side, panting slightly, obviously worn from the sheer efforts of their fighting. "Is everyone okay?" She asked, her eyes moving past Maiev and eyeing the others with trepidation. Only when they had all nodded in turn did she let out a short breath, her gaze settling on the blonde. He was undeniably handsome, slender and graceful, tanned skin and elongated ears, and blue eyes. "Thank you," she told him with a slight bow of the head. "We may not have made it without your help."

Maiev resisted the urge to roll her eyes, settling instead to cross her arms tightly over her chest. "Yes," she said sharply. "We are always so eager to welcome the aid of mages. It's worked out so well for us in the past."

The priestess chose to ignore her unnecessary commentary from the Warden. "My name is Tyrande Whisperwind," she introduced. "High Priestess of the Sisterhood of Elune and leader of the Kaldorei." She hesitated for a few seconds before shooting a sidelong glare at the other woman to her right.

Maiev gave a drawn-out sigh, unfolding her arms and dropping them at her sides. "Warden Maiev Shadowsong, commander of the Watchers," she muttered lowly.

The blonde eyed them each in turn, his gaze straying over their bodies and, in Maiev's opinion at least, lingering far longer than necessary, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "A pleasure, certainly," he replied. "My name is Kael'thas Sunstrider, Prince of Quel'thalas. Call me Kael."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hello, my lovelies. Did everyone have a nice holiday? Yes? Good. Excited for the new year? I mean, what's not to be excited about? Warcraft movie, Legion, Ashbringer belonging to my baby paladin…**

 **Anyway, I digress. Another chapter for you. I'd like to say we're about a third of the way in, but I keep coming up with things to add, and then taking multiple chapters and mashing them together, so my timeline is actually a mess right now.**

 **Ps- Major shoutout to Blame the Priest for her unending knowledge of all things related to Blood Elves. Seriously impressive. Between the two of us, we will know many things about elves. Yes.**

 **Leave me some love? I desperately need it right now. Motivation...waning... -Skye xx**

 **...**

 _ **seven**_

Malfurion made his way deep into the woods without any real regard of where he was going. He moved as if being guided by some invisible force, keeping his eyes closed for long periods of time as he listened to the spirits of the forest lead him further in. These lands had been damaged horribly, almost beyond any hope of repair, just as his own homeland had been. The ground was seared and decayed, the grass trampled and blackened. The trees had withered, entire limbs having fallen into the trails.

More than once, he caught himself wondering just what kind of being might be responsible for whatever had transpired here. These were not like the trails of destruction left behind by the Burning Legion, as he had seen far too many times before. Nor did they resemble the tracks left behind by Illidan and his army of naga. No, whatever had demolished this forest, whatever had destroyed this land, it seemed to have sucked the very life from the lands, drained it very essence and left it clinging desperately to whatever life remained. Such power that could suck the very soul from a living thing, that could kill the forest itself just by passing through, was not one with which Malfurion desired to cross paths.

It only grew worse the further he wandered. He longed desperately to help somehow; perhaps there was something the Druids could do, some way that they might heal these lands and bring the life back into them-

His thoughts were interrupted all at once when the ground started to shake beneath his feet and a sudden, sharp pain shot through him. It radiated in every fiber of his being, echoed in his head like a thousand cries for help. His hand flew to his temple, fingers pressed against it in a vain attempt to ease the agony. The pain was excruciating, unbearable and all around him. It felt as if the very world itself was being torn apart. When he closed his eyes, visions flashed across his mind, flickering images that faded out so quickly it was almost impossible to place them. He saw a vast, endless tundra of ice and a massive mountain that arose from the snow, jutting high into the star-speckled canopy of black. He saw a city in ruins, crumbled buildings torn right from the sky and sent crashing to the ground.

But these scenes were meaningless and unfamiliar to him, in spite of the obvious distress he felt rising from the very earth itself, the anguish and pleas that rang out all around him as the visions were revealed to him. However, there was a final image, one that he could make out clearly, one that he could comprehend, and that was of Illidan, his emerald eyes glistening as they fixated on what Malfurion could only assume to be the Eye of Sargeras. He stood in the center of the ruined city, a defiant look on his face.

"Soon," Illidan murmured aloud, the words seeming almost distorted and amplified within Malfurion's mind. The twisted tattoos upon his skin pulsated in time with the artifact before him. "Soon now, my enemies will be destroyed."

Malfurion's eyes snapped open all at once, the images fading away to darkness. They were running out of time. Illidan's plan would be put into motion soon. He needed to be stopped before whatever devastation he wished to unleash was allowed to do even more harm to their fragile world. He needed to be stopped _now_.

...

Maiev actually felt her lips part, eyes narrowed as they fixated on the blonde. "Sunstrider?" She repeated. Though it had been a long time since she had heard it, the name was not unfamiliar to her. It dated far back, even before the days of the Sundering and the War of the Ancients; it had belonged to a Highborne that had been in close service of the vile Queen Azshara. Dath'remar had broken away from her during the final scenes of the war, however, along with a few others that wished to aid the resistance. For some time, he had played a prominent role in the leading of the Kaldorei, but over time his thirst for the forbidden use of magic had begun to grow, and eventually they had been banished for their secretive usage of spells.

The Warden had little doubt now, looking at the young elf before her, that he was no doubt some heir of the very same Sunstrider that she had known. She could see it in his face and his eyes, and she had certainly seen his affinity for magic when he had torched half the forest with his casting. "No doubt you are a relative of Dath'remar," she blurted, her thoughts forcing their way through her lips.

Kael tilted his head just slightly, the faintest traces of confusion in his gaze. He hesitated but a moment before nodding.

At that, Maiev let out a laugh, icy and humorless, her own eyes flitting to Tyrande. "Surely you have not forgetting the banishment of the Highborne from our homeland," she said. "This child will probably guide the Legion right to our camp with his reckless uses of magic. I refuse to assist him. I've had enough brushes with demons, thank you."

The navy haired priestess gave a small scowl to the Warden. "That is not your decision to make," she reminded her. "You are not in command here-"

"This is my mission!" Maiev interrupted, digging the tips of her fingers into the harsh leather palm of her gloves. "You came to offer aid, not to pull rank over me. I haven't seen you out here trying to stop Illidan all this time, considering _you_ are the one that allowed him to go free in the first place."

Kael watched the exchange in dull amusement, blinking slowly and leaning in towards the dark haired elf at his side. "And to think, I thought Silvermoon had political turmoil."

Rommath carefully smoothed out the creases in his own red robes. "Don't go and anger them now, please," he urged gently.

Maiev allowed the corners of her lips to twitch into a smirk. "Yes, little elf. Listen to your friend. Angering me is not in your best interest." Pausing for a moment, she couldn't help but add, "Just ask the High Priestess."

Tyrande glowered slightly, her lip curving back into a sneer, though it faded when she refocused her attention on Kael. "What _are_ you doing out here, exactly?" She asked then, her tone far lighter. Once, she would have been wary of trusting any stranger, but she had grown since then, and she had learned that sometimes the greatest of allies were the most unexpected ones of all.

She was surprised to see a bit of the luster fade from Kael's cerulean eyes, his expression shifting almost instantly to something far more strained and filled with sorrow. "We are looking for help," he replied, and Tyrande could hear in the way he spoke that he was trying very hard to sound brave, in spite of the way his voice trembled and his eyes looked like they were runner with the sudden threat of tears. The priestess couldn't help but feel her heart swell with sympathy; whatever troubled this poor child of an elf was obviously severe. His fear radiated off of him, and she could feel it as if it hung tangibly in the air around them.

Swallowing hard, she dared to reach out and place her hand upon his upper arm, hoping that the small gesture might offer some sense of reassurance. "Tell us what's happened, Kael'thas."

The prince let out a small, uneven breath, the kind that caught in his throat and tried to choke him. He allowed his eyes to close for a few second, trying to regain some sense of composure. "An army," he began slowly, when his golden lashes had fluttered open once again. "They marched through my homeland, decimating everything they touched, slaughtering my people and burning our city to the ground."

His words piqued Maiev's curiosity, at least enough that she spoke up. "What sort of army?" She urged, her tone bordering on demanding. "We seek a demon-"

Kael was quick to shake his head, before she could even finish her sentence. "They were led by a human prince, Arthas Menethil. I was still in Dalaran when it happened. I-I couldn't have known, not until it was too late..." A small shudder moved through his lithe figure, and almost without thinking Rommath extended a hand to rest upon his shoulder. Maiev watched the way the dark haired elf bowed his head as if trying to hide the faint blush that had tinged his cheeks. "Everything's been destroyed, and I'm left to pick up the pieces," Kael went on. "The city is ruined, and there are too many dead to even count. And the Sunwell…"

Apparently, this was as much as Kael felt he was able to say on the matter. But whatever horrors he had seen, Tyrande could see them too, reflected in his crystalline blue eyes. She could see the burdens he carried within him, the struggle and fear. She imagined it was something close to the way she herself had appeared all those thousands of years ago, when the Legion had destroyed her home and _she_ had been the one left to try and make sense of whatever rubble was left. She understood the feeling of complete devastation at realizing all you had ever known was gone. More than anything, she understood the dread of responsibility, of failure, or letting down everyone that depended upon her.

Tucking a long strand of thick dark hair behind her long ear, she glanced only briefly at Maiev before returning her attention to Kael and giving a quick nod. "I grieve for your people, young prince. But you must not allow rage and despair to poison your heart. You may lead your people to a brighter future."

Kael said nothing to that, just bowed his head slightly in a simple show of respect. From where she hovered beside the High Priestess, Maiev crinkled her nose in mild disgust at the scene before her. No doubt Tyrande thought that she herself had done just that for their people. But, remembering their truce, she quickly smoothed out her expression, returning instead to her blank stare of apparent disinterest.

"What sort of aid do you seek?" Tyrande asked of Kael'thas then.

The blonde looked to Rommath, who had yet to remove his hand from where it lingered upon his robes, like he depended entirely on the other elf to tell him what it was they were doing, like he had completely forgotten how to handle anything on his own. There were a few silent seconds that passed between them, some wordless conversation that the pair of women could merely observe but never hope to understand, years of trained practice at speaking without ever having to say a word.

Eventually, though, Kael rerouted his attention to Tyrande. "We have been plighted by Undead ever since we left Quel'thalas," he explained. "We were hoping to seek refuge across the river, but many of our warriors have already fallen, and we fear losing anymore when there are so few of us to begin with."

The navy haired elf contemplated this for but a moment. "Perhaps we could help you."

At that, Maiev's lips parted, her brows raising quickly. "Wait, hold on," she interrupted. "We don't have the time to spare. Illidan-"

Tyrande shot her a silencing glare. "Perhaps once Kael'thas and his people are safe from the Undead, they would lend us aid in return in helping us hunt Illidan down," she countered.

The prince gave a quick, definitive nod. His expression brightened almost instantly, a bit of his trepidation fading away and leaving in its place that same easy charisma he'd worn so well only moments before. "It would be an honor, milady," he replied, that velvety voice taking over once more, chasing away the hesitation and fear, neither of which had seemed to suit him all that well to begin with. "We have a small camp set up close to here; come, join us, please. We shall rally the others."

With that, he turned on his heel, crimson robes swaying around him as he did. Rommath removed his hand at last, letting it slide down Kael's back in a quick and subtle motion, and turned as well, trailing off after the blonde, never once daring to stray out of arm's reach. Tyrande was intent on following quickly behind, not eager to lose herself to the thickness of the fog and haze that had settled in upon the lands. But she barely managed to take a single step when Maiev's plate-entombed hand reached out to snap around her wrist, the grip perhaps too tight, too forceful, as she yanked the priestess back into place.

"This is a waste of time," she spat, the flames of her anger and irritation burning clearly in her eyes. But Tyrande had never been bothered by the Warden and her volatile emotions, not even when they were younger, and so she didn't even flinch at the way Maiev bared her teeth. "We are supposed to be looking for Illidan, not absolving our personal guilt by handing out assistance to anyone whose path we cross."

The priestess narrowed her silvery eyes, ripping free of Maiev's hold upon her. "I have no guilt to absolve," she snapped quickly. "Dath'remar Sunstrider aided us against the Legion during the great war, and now our chance has finally come to repay that debt."

Maiev chose to swallow back her words, her reminders of how Dath'remar and his Highborne brethren had, in turn, betrayed them, had deceived them and been banished from their forests. She chose not to point out that they owed absolutely nothing to this whimpering child and his wayward companions, that they had their own missions, _her_ missions, and that Tyrande extended her authority too far. Instead, she opted for crossing her arms tightly over her chest and fixating her icy gaze straight ahead as she started off in the direction Kael and Rommath had gone. "Just remember," she called out after her. "If Illidan succeeds in causing any more destruction, it will be because of you." Pausing, she halted and threw a single, pointed glance back over her shoulder. "But then, it already is, I suppose. Since you're the one who let him out and all."

Tyrande replied only with her deadliest glare, jutting out her chin and taking a few easy, graceful strides to shoulder past the younger of the two women.

So much for a truce, then.

…

Kael'thas had not been exaggerating when he spoke of just how few of them there were. When the unlikely group reached the small encampment, Maiev did a quick sweep of the area, estimating maybe a hundred at best. They looked tired, worn down and utterly hopeless, a dangerous combination that left soldiers off their guard. But there was something else, some overwhelming sense of pain that seemed almost tangible in the air around her, a physical sort of pain that showed itself in the dark circles under the elves' eyes, and the way their hands trembled every so often.

Within moments of their arrival, another painfully young elf with raven black hair came rushing up to the prince, his chest rising with his hurried breaths. He paused only long enough to dip his chin before his tumbled words came spilling out. "Your Highness, Sir, another band of Undead moved in from the east," he reported. "We managed to take them down, sustaining only minor injuries, but we've lost more ground. I fear that soon we'll be overrun entirely-"

Kael held up a hand to silence the man. "Thank you, Sanguinar," he murmured, waving them off with a quick flick of his wrist. Letting out a short sigh, he gave an apologetic glance to the others. "I suppose I should go and make sure everyone is okay."

"I'll help you," Tyrande offered quickly. "I can heal the wounded, at the very least."

Kael allowed his worried expression to fall away for but a moment, allowing that same signature smirk to creep its way across his face. If not for the fact that she had a terrible feeling about all of this welling in the pit of her stomach, she might have almost admired his ability to regain his composure so abruptly, to switch his moods with little more than the snap of his fingers. It was something with which she herself had always struggled, keeping control over herself. It was why she forced herself to cling to her cool exterior and empty interior, for she feared that if she were to falter for even a moment, she would never be able to put herself back together again.

"You do too much, High Priestess," the blonde murmured gently, his eyes gleaming devilishly at her. "Perhaps later you can show me what else you're capable of doing."

In spite of herself, Tyrande felt the slightest of blushes tinting her cheeks, honestly unsure if she had ever heard such brazen words spoken to her before. But she was quick to shake her head, running her fingers through her long tresses before tossing them over her shoulder. "Sorry to disappoint, Your Majesty. I'm quite spoken for."

Kael tilted his head just slightly. "That so? You don't strike me as the type that lets a man tell her what to do." Still, he shrugged it off, looking back towards Maiev. "What about you, sweetheart? You want me to show you to my tent?"

Maiev hardened her gaze. "Absolutely not," she snapped impatiently. "Proposition me again and you can become acquainted with my blade."

The prince replied with only a sharp laugh, genuinely amused, before muttering something that sounded like "suit yourself" and making his way down towards the camp with Tyrande in tow. For a few painfully long, drawn out moments, Maiev stood alone in her own seething silence, frustrated with Tyrande and with this new delay in her quest to hunt Illidan and this golden haired prince that seemed to believe all the world existed only to cater to his personal desires.

Only, she wasn't alone, a fact of which she was abruptly reminded when Rommath suddenly cleared his throat, his own azure eyes finally rising from whatever spot on the ground they had been fixated upon. "You'll have to excuse the prince," the younger elf said lowly, under his breath. She was not oblivious to the way he scanned the encampment until his gaze settled upon Kael'thas. Maiev frowned at the way Rommath watched him so intently, his stare moving frantically to keep up as Kael bounced his way from person to person. "The attack on our people...well, it's taken a lot out of him, you see. I know he's trying to hold himself together in the only way he knows how."

The words resonated deeply with the Warden, striking a nerve with her she had not expected. "I understand," she responded, glancing back then to the dark haired elf. "What are you, then?" Her tone far light than it had been before, now that the less desirable company had departed. "His consort?"

The words had been meant teasingly, a playful jab meant to mock the way he hovered as a lover might do. But something dangerous and telling flashed in Rommath's glowing eyes, something that made her own widen. "Oh," she stammered. "I didn't mean-"

"I am the prince's advisor," Rommath replied instantly, almost monotonously. Rehearsed words. He was just an advisor. She had never loved Illidan. Lies that they told everyone, including themselves, so they might make it through the day.

"You love him," she said plainly, neither a question nor an accusation. Merely an observation. "I've lived long enough to tell, even if I have spent most of that life underground. You'll not convince me that you don't, so you might as well save your breath."

Rommath had turned, then, to face her fully, and he stared up at her in muted horror, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. His fingers had dug themselves into the fabric of his robes, twisting and untwisting the material nervously. "I don't- that is, you cant-" he stuttered, finally pausing long enough to suck in a greedy breath. "Nobody knows, that's all."

Maiev pursed her lips, nodding slowly. "Does he know?"

The mage chewed anxiously at his bottom lip for a few agonizing seconds. "Yes," he confessed at last. "I told him a while ago, but I suspect he knew long before that. I've never been the greatest at concealing myself, at least not from him. He- he says he loves me too, and I believe him, really- he's been tolerating me since we were children. And he's a prince, you know, he certainly doesn't have to put up with me if he doesn't wish to."

This, perhaps more than anything, baffled the Warden, a deep frown creasing her brow. Sure, she supposed that she had only really known them for a pathetically short time, but from what she had seen of Kael, he certainly didn't act like someone that was in love. But then, what did she know of love? She'd been caught up in an unrequited love triangle for nearly all the days that she had been alive, one that she had never bothered trying to get out of, because clinging to that final shimmer of fantastical hope was easier than accepting that she would never have a damn thing that she wanted. She was in love with a memory, a ghost of someone long gone. And really, that was the most dangerous sort of love, because there was nothing to remind her that the person was not real, that the memories were all wrong, that the image in her head was a warped and tainted version of the truth. She was in love with the person she had wanted him to be, not the person that he _had_ been, and most of the time it was utterly impossible for her to tell the difference.

"How do you do it?" She blurted, the words falling from her lips without much thought and lingering in the air where she was unable to take them back. Rommath gave her a curious look, a silent prompt to clarify. Swallowing back her trepidation, she said, "How do you stand to love someone that wants someone else? How do you stop it from tearing you apart?"

Rommath moved his hands slowly, deliberately smoothing them over his robes, making no attempt to hide that he was stalling. He mulled over her question, picked apart his thoughts for a long time, trying to find the perfect combination of words to express his feelings. "I suppose," he said at last. "I suppose I realized that having the privilege to love him at all seemed already far more than I deserved, and asking for him to love me back- only me, with all of his heart- was simply selfish and unfair. I would have been happy just to give him my heart, and let him do with it as he wished. But to know that there is a part of him, any part of him al tall, that loves me in return, that desires me, that deems with worthy of his affection...that had always been enough for me. I would rather be granted some of his love than none at all."

Maiev thought on this for a long time, replayed the words back to herself in her mind and tried to comprehend them. She wondered if maybe this sort of partial love could have ever been enough for her, just the comfort in knowing that at one point, for however brief a time, it had been her that Illidan had longed for. But the truth was that she couldn't even know for certain if that had ever been real, and none of it mattered much now anyway. There was no love left in him to give. Not to her. Not to Tyrande. She was clinging on to the ghost of a faded memory, and it was long past the time for her to let it go.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: First off, a thousand apologies for my sudden absence. I had no intention of going on break, but then Star Wars happened, and I saw it five times and wrote some fanfic…. Anyway, yeah, no more of that!**

 **Second, I wanted to address the comments made by a couple of people regarding Kael and Rommath. Most anyone who is invested in Blood Elf lore knows that Rommath was highly devoted to Kael regardless of circumstance. Because of this, it was always easy for me to connect that to him having an emotional/romantic attachment to the prince. As for Kael himself, whether you love him or hate him, it's pretty hard to deny that he's a charismatic guy (assuming he wrote his own speeches, anyway), and everyone can sort of agree that Blood Elves are often classified as the most sensual and promiscuous of the races. In addition to that, Sin'dorei males are just by nature androgynous, and in a culture that has never seemed sexuality or its exploration as inherently wrong, it didn't seem like a stretch to make him bisexual in orientation.**

 **Anyway, I'm afraid I've been gone long enough. Again, I do apologize, and I'll try to avoid unexpected disappearances in the future.**

 **...**

 _ **eight**_

The unlikely group was quick to set off, in the hopes that they might make it back to the camp before sundown, when the seemingly endless shadow that permeated the lands around them shifted into a darkness that was impossible to move through. They were silent, mostly; Tyrande and Kael led the way with Maiev and Rommath trailing closely behind. Every so often, the prince would make a comment on the scenery, or ask some trivial question to the High Priestess, but they seemed less out of curiosity or necessity and more so out of a desire to fill the absence of sound.

Eventually, the silence was filled instead with the incessant sound of rushing waters, and a great river came into view, depthless and speeding past at an impressively alarming pace. Tyrande glanced in either direction, but the river was endless so far as she could tell.

"This is Arevass," Kael offered falling in place at her side. "There's a bridge we can use to cross just south of here." Nodding, Tyrande allowed him to redirect the assembly and guide them along the grassy shore. It wasn't long until they came to the very bridge of which he spoke; it was an ancient thing, old wooden boards fastened with fraying rope, swaying precariously over the wide expanses of the rushing waters.

Almost instantly, Maiev skidded to a halt, a scowl etching itself into her features. "You've got to be kidding me," she grumbled, her gaze shifting between the others. "This bridge wont hold for all of us to cross."

Tyrande shot her a warning glare, while Kael only brushed her off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "It's old," he agreed, "but it will hold. We'll move slowly, not too much weight at a time, and-"

"Sorry to interrupt," Rommath drawled out suddenly, cutting the prince off with a short apologetic look. "But I'm afraid slowly may not be an option."

His eyes strayed to the treeline in the distance, and he others were quick to follow behind. The source of his distress was apparent immediately, in the form of a sudden onslaught of Undead barreling towards them from the forest, each step bringing them dangerously nearer. An echoing murmur of fear passed through the elves; it was not entirely unwarranted, since they had seen far too much of what this endless army was capable of, had lost their homes and their loved ones already, and had only their lives left to which they could cling.

Kael let out a muttered curse, sucking in a greedy breath like the oxygen might fuel the fires licking at the insides of his veins, sparking at the tips of his fingers. "We cannot survive another assault," he said hurried, a glint of worry in his eyes.

Tyrande nodded in understanding. They were trapped, backs against the wall, and their only option was to stand and fight. But she had been here before, and she was still standing strong. The priestess would not back down from this new enemy any more than she had ever backed down to the limitless demon armies of the Burning Legion. "Tell your people to begin crossing," she decided at once. "We will stay and hold off the Scourge soldiers for as long as we possibly can."

With only a sharp jut of his chin, some cross between comprehension and respect, Kael whirled around and started barking out orders. Rommath blinked for a few moments too long, readying himself as best he possibly could. Maiev opened her mouth like she might argue, but ultimately snapped it shut, reaching over her shoulder to free the umbra crescent and sinking into a defensive position.

And then the dead were upon them, all gnawing and thrashing with bones and rotted flesh. Maiev drew them into her with each arcing swing and lunging attack, while Rommath and Tyrande both kept their distance, picking off the monsters with great bursts of light or crackling flames. Once, the Warden thought she felt the sharp pain of a gash against her arm, penetrating through a weak point in her armor, but before she was able to focus too intently on the pain, she felt the soft touch of a warmth that she had not felt in ages, had not allowed herself to feel, one that moved through her and eased the ache of her wounds. When she spared a second to glance back at Tyrande, the High Priestess only offered the quick flash of a knowing smile.

For a while, probably longer than any of them had really believed, they were able to hold back the masses. But each of them was quickly edging towards the brink of exhaustion, and the Undead were seemingly ceaseless in numbers. For each that was felled, another two rose up to take its place. Plunging her blade into as many as she could, Maiev stumbled back towards the others, her chest rising and falling in great, heaving gasps for air. "We can't go on like this, Tyrande," she hissed. "We need a better plan-"

The navy-haired elf threw an arm out to shove the younger woman aside, her other hand lifting to channel a bolt of energy that was enough to knock back the last of shambling corpses, though there were more that could be seen on the horizon. Tyrande glanced frantically over her shoulder at the others; it appeared now that the last of the Sin'dorei had managed to cross the bridge without incident, led by Kael'thas and protected from behind by Rommath. The mage was now making his own way after his people, and when he caught Tyrande's eyes he gave a single dip of his chin, an indication that they were safe.

"Go," she said then, the single, sudden word ringing out clearly over the clamor. Her expression was perfectly composed, aside from perhaps the slight traces of urgency in her glowing eyes.

Her serenity was the perfect offset to Maiev's disbelief, evident in the way that her jaw literally fell open. "Go?" She repeated, her own voice jumping at least an octave. "What do you mean, go?"

" _Go,"_ Tyrande repeated, harsher than before. "Go with the others, get them back to the base."

"And what about you?" Maiev growled, maybe shrieked, she couldn't be sure. Every passing second brought the next wave of Undead closer to them, and she was shouting to try and rise above the sound of her own beating heart. Her emotions were caught somewhere between rage and fright. She was angry, angry because it was Tyrande's fault that they were in this mess in the first place, Tyrande that had wanted to help Kael and his people, and now she was just going to send Maiev to look after them when all the Warden had wanted to do from the very start was find Illidan and bring him home. But she was scared, too, because there was this horrible dread that had welled up within her, more intense than she had known in a long time, a feeling she'd forgotten since the days of the ancient war, and suddenly she was left feeling like nothing more than a frightened child all over again.

Swallowing hard, Tyrande's gaze flitted between Maiev and the approaching enemies. She ran a trembling hand through her hair to push it back from where it had fallen into her face. "I will stay back and hold the bridge for as long as I am able," she responded quickly, nodding as if to reaffirm her own words.

At that, Maiev let out a strangled, humorless rendition of a laugh. "That's very noble," she retorted, but her voice was too hoarse to really sound all that sarcastic. "But you're no match for a force this vast-"

Tyrande was quick to cut her off, hands balled up at her sides into fists that were so tight her knuckles turned white and Maiev thought she could actually see the Light itself being squeezed out from between her fingers. "My goddess is my shield, Warden," She bit back. "Elune will grant me the strength."

In a moment of desperation, Tyrande actually reached out and wrapped her fingers Maiev's wrist, giving her a hard tug in the direction of the bridge. She shoved her forward, sending the bridge rocking side to side below them and Maiev flailing to grasp onto the thin rope railing. She paused only long enough to throw a glare over her shoulder before accepting that there seemed little to no point in trying to argue and beginning to make her way across. The priestess followed closely behind her, their steps hurried. As Maiev reached the other side, Rommath threw a hand out to her, linking their fingers together and yanking her towards the security of solid ground.

Tyrande, meanwhile, stopped in the center, whirling around with a determined scowl on her face. "Elune," she whispered so softly it was nearly inaudible. "Protect us in this most peril of times that we might live to fight another day-"

The army of the damned had reached the riverside now, a few of them stumbling over the others to try and make their way out towards her.

"Give us your strength that we might defend ourselves-"

The swaying very nearly cost Tyrande her balance, but with one hand gripping the railing and the other held out before her, she held her ground.

"And shine upon us that we might rise upon this darkness and bask in the glory of your light-"

With that final prayer still upon her lips, and the Undead overwhelming the bridge, Tyrande let go. She let go of the hold that had kept her from falling, and she let go of the barriers within herself. She let go of her fears, her doubts, her transgressions and regrets. She let go of her very self, until all that remained within the vessel of her body was the Light, the blessing of Elune turning her very veins to gold as it coursed through her. And then, she let go of that too, and when she did, it exploded in a brilliant burst of luminescence, blinding in its brightness. It spilled from every fiber of her being, from the tips of her fingers and the air that she exhaled from her lungs.

Maiev watched from the other side in stunned silence, eyes widened and lips parted as she stared on, longing to shield herself from the sheer illumination of it but seemingly frozen in place. And then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone, and in the final fading moments, she saw that the Undead had been knocked back, some pushed away from the shoreline and others sent falling into the depths below.

And then, too late, she saw the ropes that held the bridge in place coming slowly undone, collapsing under the surge of power, and she saw the priestess being pulled down right along with it, plunging into the violence of the river and disappearing under the surface.

…

For a long time after, there was only silence. They were safe, but for how long that would last, none of them could say. Maiev remained where she was at the edge of the river, frozen in place, staring blankly at the place where Tyrande had been only seconds before, trying and failing over and over to move, to blink, to feel anything whatsoever.

After what felt like an eternity, Kael came to stand beside her. The hand he rested on her shoulder seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, threatened to send her falling to her knees. "If we hurry, we can save her," he said. The words were spoken frantically, and yet there was an edge of defeat to them, like even as he said them he didn't quite believe them to be true.

"No," Maiev whispered, without really realizing it. For as long as she could recall, from the days of their youth, she and Tyrande had been something like rivals. First in their training as priestesses, and then in their battle over Illidan's heart and all that had come after. They had never been friends, had never seen eye to eye on anything in all their lives. But still, there had always been this sort of unspoken bond that existed between them, because whether they liked it or not, their lives had been tangled together for so many years, their paths constantly overlapping. When it had come down to it, when lives were at stake, they had always begrudgingly set aside their differences in the name of the greater good.

But now, she was...gone. And there was this strange and unexpected vacancy that Maiev felt in her absence.

Kael, meanwhile, was gaping at her like she was absolutely insane. "That current will take her straight into the heart of the Undead lands," he tried to reason.

The Warden was shaking her head before he had even managed to get the sentence out. "Tyrande is a soldier of her goddess," she said slowly. The words tasted wrong in her mouth. "She knew the risks that she took." All at once, her control over her own self returned, and she turned quickly away from the river, as if she couldn't waste a single second in putting this entire ordeal behind her. She blinked several times in rapid succession, a vain attempt to recollect her thoughts, to try and recall when she had allowed herself to stray so far from her mission, her very purpose.

Her head snapped up then, and with a bit of her spark returned to her, her gaze bore straight into the faded blue eyes of the prince. "We have a greater mission to accomplish now," she went on. With each word, a bit of the shakiness faded from her voice. "Your people are safe now, and I expect that you will uphold your end of the deal in helping me hunt the demon that I seek. Move out."

And just like that, she had slipped back into the voided sanctuary of her shell, blocking out all else, safe and untouchable from the pain of emotion. And all Kael could do was stare after her, wondering what a single person had to endure before they allowed themselves to be twisted into something so cold and heartless that the loss of their own people wasn't even enough to phase them.

…

By the time they returned to the base camp, any semblance of light had long since faded from the sky. It was the welcoming flicker of the fires that guided them the rest of the way. As soon as their silhouettes came into view, Maiev closed the distance between herself and the other Watchers where they were huddled together. She came to an abrupt halt before Cordana, casting a dark shadow over the younger girl. 

"Felsong," she said, far too weary to sound overbearing. "Report."

Cordana rose to her feet, turning to face her commander fully. "No sign of the Betrayer, Mistress," he said bleakly. "He could be anywhere by now. This is hopeless- hold on, who are they?" Her gaze flitted over the older woman's shoulder to the place where Kael and Rommath hovered awkwardly behind her, their own followers lingering uncertainly at the edge of the campsite.

"Prince of Quel'thalas or something," Maiev said hurriedly, far less concerned with the other elves, far more focused on the fact that they had managed to lose Illidan _again_. She spared a quick glance at the blonde, telling him to make himself and his companions comfortable before turning her attention back to Cordana.

However, their conversation was cut short when they were joined by a third figure, one that appeared at Maiev's side and cast an even wider shadow, one that was characterized by the great antlers protruding from atop his head. Just like that, the Warden felt her heart sink in her chest as the full realization of what had happened hit her square in the chest.

"Maiev," Malfurion said lowly, apparently giving up on any use of formalities. She felt overly aware of the way his gaze swept over her, and then past her, the slightest of frowns adorning his features as he took in the new arrivals. But he didn't bother questioning her, at least not about that. No, he had but one thing to ask her, and the dread amassed within her as the words fell from his lips, his apparent pain nearly enough to splinter her own heart. "Where is Tyrande?"

Swallowing hard, she did her best to ignore the thudding of her pulse, wondering if he could hear the echoing within her armor over the silence that had befallen them. "S-Shan'do," she stammered out, pressing her nails into her palms, though through her thick gauntlets it didn't offer much in the way of comfort. "The High Priestess has fallen."

The look on his face could have stopped her breath. The devastation was instantaneous, spreading through his features, widening his eyes and drawing his lips down. "What do you mean, _fallen?_ "

Maiev was caught under the weight of his expectant stare, under the raw pain in his eyes, a pain that not even she herself she could possibly comprehend. For ten thousand years Malfurion had loved Tyrande with all of his heart, had stood beside her, and now he was learning that she had been stolen from him. And for what? For Maiev's own thirst for retribution. Her vengeance had lost him his love.

She couldn't possibly tell him that she'd let it happen, that she hadn't even _tried_ to save the High Priestess.

So she did all she could think, and that was to lie.

Clearing her throat, she did her best to keep her tone steady, level. "We found ourselves faced with a band of Undead, and Tyrande opted to- to stay behind and hold them back so that we might advance. She fought valiantly, but they overwhelmed her. I- I saw her torn apart with my own eyes."

Malfurion glared, not at her but _through_ her, at some imaginary force beyond her that he seemed to have deemed responsible for this heartbreak. But it was a look that held far more pain than rage, and within seconds he had bowed his head to hide the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes. "Tyra," he choked out, his shoulders quivering as a silent sob ripped through him. "I should have been there. I should have saved her."

It took every ounce of willpower that Maiev had left to reach out and place her hand lightly against his forearm, some false offering of comfort that she couldn't help but feel was far more intended to soothe herself than him. But she was too deep in now, too invested in her hunt to give up now. She saw this latest opportunity, and she took it. "Malfurion," she murmured quietly, unable to really, truly meet his gaze. "Illidan is the reason we are here in the first place. He is responsible for what happened to Tyrande. You can still avenge her, if we finish what we started."

Several long moments passed, but in time he lifted his head, no longer trying to conceal the quiet tears that rolled over his cheeks. "You are right," he answered, offering a small nod. "Illidan will pay for this, I swear it."

Somehow, Maiev managed to force what she hoped to be a convincing imitation of a sympathetic smile. "Let us rest," she suggested. "And in the morning, we will find him, and we will have our retribution."


	10. Chapter 10

_**nine**_

In the morning, another small band of scouts was sent out to continue on trying to pick up Illidan's trail, made up of Sentinels, Druids and a pair of Blood Elves that would be able to offer at least some semblance of familiarity with the area. Exhausted from their own endeavors the previous day, the leaders of each group opted to stay behind at the base, knowing they would need their energy in case the time would come in which they would have to face the half-demon once and for all.

Maiev had made herself comfortable in a quiet place a ways up the shore, isolated from the others in the hopes that she might draw and the silence and use it to shut out her own ceaseless thoughts. Tyrande was dead. Tyrande was dead, and she hadn't even tried to save her. And then, as if that wasn't enough, she had _lied_ about it to Malfurion, after he had trusted in her and come to her side when she'd called on him. Tyrande was dead, just like Naisha was dead, because they'd been trying to help her.

Shaking her head in a feeble attempt to rid herself of the welling sense of guilt in her chest, she refocused her attention on the small pile of sticks before her, from which she'd been trying to spark a flame for what seemed like hours. Just when she thought she might be getting somewhere, a sudden spark sent the entire pile up in flames, and before she had time to react Kael was plopping down beside her.

Maiev was quick to flash him a scowl, dropping her own twig and drawing her knees up to her chest. "What do you want?" She asked icily. Perhaps it was a rash reaction; surely he had done nothing wrong, merely a poor victim of unfortunate circumstance. But his very presence irritated her, his confidence that bordered on arrogance and reminded her far too much of the boy she had once loved, the one that had become the very monster she now hunted.

If Kael was bothered in the slightest by her cool demeanor, he didn't let it show. "I wanted to offer my thanks," he replied easily, his own blue eyes fixed on the rolling waves off in the distance. They seemed faded now, a pale imitation of something she thought might have been bright, once upon a time. "And my condolences for your loss."

Snorting a little at that, Maiev gave a short shrug, turning her gaze on the crackling of the small fire he had started before them. "It is the Kaldorei people's loss," she retorted. "In case you didn't notice, we weren't exactly friends. She only came to help me find Illidan." And even that was likely for her own selfish reasons, the Warden thought idly, but it hardly seemed necessary to add aloud.

"Why is this so important to you?" Kael asked, absently flicking stray pieces of dirt off his robes, daring not glance in her direction, knowing the anger and distrust he would find there.

Maiev let out a small huff of a breath, leaning in closer to the small fire, thankful for its warmth even as she longed to resent it on the mere principle that it had be conjured from his magic. She had no interest in baring her soul to this petulant child of an elf, but at the same time, it had been so long since she had been able to open up to anyone, and even longer since anyone had seemed interested enough to bother asking. "It's personal, mostly," she admitted quietly. "It used to be about duty, about completing the task that was given to me, but...in time, it became something greater."

"Ah," Kael murmured, his tone pensive as he gave a knowing nod. "So you love him."

All but choking on the breath she had been taking, Maiev's brows rose as she gaped at him with widened eyes and a startled expression. Looking around quickly to ensure none of the others were close enough to overhear, she swallowed hard, hating the heat that had risen in her cheeks, knowing it gave her away entirely. "No," she stammered, quick and shaky, but even to her own ears it sounded like a lie.

The way Kael was smirking assured her that he could tell. "You're painfully obvious, you know," he pointed out.

"No...not anymore," she amended with a sigh, refocusing her gaze on the flickering flames. "Once, perhaps, but he is no longer that boy, and I am no longer that girl."

The blonde prince gave a slight shrug at that. "People change, when they have no choice but to do so," he said quietly, and had she bothered to glance over at him she might have seen the wistful look in his eyes. "But love...that is not quite so easily altered. Love tends to linger regardless of circumstance." 

To that, she said nothing, just allowed the words to linger in the air around them for some time. Eventually, their solitude was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps, and a shadow fell over them as Rommath appeared before the unlikely pair. "Kael," he murmured, and greeted Maiev as well with a short nod. "The scouting party has returned."

In an instant, Maiev was pushing herself to her feet, tugging at her armor to adjust its positioning. "And?" She demanded quickly. "What news?"

In spite of the fact that it was the Warden he addressed, it was the prince upon whom his gaze lingered. "They found him," he said slowly, some slight hint of strain in his voice that Maiev was far too absorbed to notice. "He is in Dalaran."

Now Kael rose as well, a frown tugging his brows together as he fell into place beside his oldest friend. "Dalaran?" He repeated.

Rommath gave a short nod. "Yes," he replied. "But...but it would seem that another enemy has beaten him there."

…

Once, Dalaran had been a great, sprawling city of rising towers and cobblestone streets. It had been a place of protection and learning, where the very air buzzed with magic. It was also where Kael'thas and Rommath had spent much of their life, where they had studied the arcane arts and trained as young mages. It was where Kael had served as a member of the elusive Council of Six. It was where they had grown up, met, developed the closeness they shared now. It had been their home.

Now, Dalaran had been reduced to little more than rubble and ashes. It had been the stage of an assault by Prince Arthas Menethil and his new army of the dead, where he had summoned the great demon lord Archimonde, who had been expelled once more by the efforts of the Kaldorei, along with their human and orc allies. Now, the familiar streets were littered with fallen pillars, and the towering buildings were nothing more than heaps of stone.

As they reached the city, or what remained, Kael had to suck in a steadying breath. In such a short time, he had seen not one, but two of his homes destroyed, and there was a raging flame within him dying to be released. For the time being, he knew he had to tame it, for there were far more pressing matters at hand. He stood beside Maiev and Malfurion, with an entourage of Blood Elves, Druids and Sentinels behind them. The Watchers were there in their entirety, for this had been their battle from the start, and each of them wished to see it through to the end.

The group made their way carefully through the wreckage, with Kael occasionally giving some mumbled direction. It was hard to tell if they'd been wandering for mere minutes or endless hours, and Maiev was beginning to think that Illidan had eluded her all over again. But then they rounded the corner, and there he was. His face was illuminated by the emerald glow that the artifact gave off he was surrounded by a small band of naga, each of which who was channeling a spell that seem to draw forth the very energies of the Eye of Sargeras. Entirely fixated on whatever task consumed him, Illidan was completely unaware of their approach.

With gritted teeth and a desperation in her glowing eyes, Maiev Took a step forward, only to be stopped by Malfurion's hand reaching out to wrap around her arm. "We need a plan," he urged in a hushed tone.

"I have one," she snapped in reply. "I'm going to kill him."

In a swift motion, she yanked her arm free of his hold and ripped her weapon from its place of rest across her back. And then she was charging forward, leaving the others with no choice but to follow behind. She was deadly fast, seemingly unbothered by the weight of her arm her as she longed fourth and, in a quick and clean sweep, drove her curved blade straight into one of the naga.

With their spell now shattered, the reptilian creatures redirected their attention to the assailants they grew numbers as more slithered from the shadows, rising up with jagged spears and flicking tails. The combined forces of the elves met them with crackling spells and steel blades and sharp claws, and within mere seconds a full on battle had erupted around the Warden.

But Maiev found herself frozen in place, motionless and trapped, for a moment later her gaze had locked with the verdant gleam of Illidan's own sightless eyes. Months and months had led to this very moment, this scene she had imagined more times than she cared to recall. After all her struggles, her searching and her losses, she found herself face to face with the Betrayer.

And suddenly, she had forgotten how to move, how to breathe, and all she could do was stare up at him as he stared right back, watching the twisting, flickering glow of her blood red aura, that light with which had had become so familiar, that burning passion and rage that shifted around her form with every rise and fall of her chest. Around them, bodies fell, staining the streets with blood, painting a violent backdrop to the intensity of their moment.

And after all the years, all the warring emotions, all the struggles that had led to this, the moment Maiev would finally reclaim Illidan, all that he could think to say was, "You're supposed to be dead."

Maiev tightened her hold on the umbra crescent, readied herself for the coming assault, bared her teeth at the twisted monstrosity pretending to be the boy she'd once loved. "Funny, I feel the same way about you."

Letting out a muffled snarl, he took up his glaives and took a step towards her, staggering under the weight of his wings and the awkwardness of his hooves. "I will not let you stand in my way," he hissed, lifting his demonic weapons, ready for the fight. Maiev didn't even realize how much she wanted it until it was before her, how desperately she longed for this moment of conflict, for this clashing of blades and the potential to spill his blood. She didn't realize until that moment, that any ounce of love she may have had left for him had been replaced entirely with her blind hatred. If she couldn't have him, then she would destroy him.

It mattered not, though. Her moment was stolen from her when a moment later the very stones of the street gave way to the earth beneath them, and a tangle of vines rose up to ensnare Illidan. Maiev spun around with a scowl on her face, one that was tinged with an unconcealed desperation as Malfurion came to stand beside her.

If he noticed at all, he gave no show of it. His gaze was entirely focused on the form of his brother, and in his own eyes was reflected all of his hurt, all of his pain, all of the years of carefully repressed resentment that had finally reached their breaking point. When he spoke, it was with a quiet loathing and sense of finality. "It's over, brother," he said, sneering out the term in the most derogatory manner possible. "Your vile schemes end here."

Illidan's burning gaze flickered between Malfurion and Maiev, his own emotions caught somewhere between rage and reluctance, as if the demonic part of his being was struggling to overcome what feelings remained within him, to crush them out until all he felt was this all consuming hate. The last time he had seen his brother, the elder twin had banished him, shamed him in spite of all that Illidan had done for their people. He had taken Tyrande away, turned her against him, and cast his own twin aside. It seemed only fitting that Malfurion stood now alongside Maiev, and together they would try to finish what had been started between them all so many years before.

Shouldering past the Druid, Maiev lifted the umbra crescent and held it out menacingly towards the half-demon. "Illidan Stormrage," she bellowed. "For recklessly endangering countless lives and threatening the very balance of the world, you are hereby sentenced to death." A shiver ran down her spine as she spoke the words aloud. For so long, this notion of ending him, really _truly_ ending him, had only ever existed in her head. Now that it was tangible and real and right in front of her, there was a creeping chill of vacancy. For ten thousand years, her life had revolved around Illidan, whether that was loving him or guarding him or chasing him down. She wondered idly, almost fearfully, what her purpose for existing might become in his absence.

Illidan glared back at her, lip curled back in a sneer, seemingly unphased by the proximity of her blade or the threat of her words. No, it was clear that whatever had existed between them once upon a time was gone. This was all that remained. "You're all fools," he snapped, struggling against the plants that held him. "This spell is meant for the Undead. They are our common enemy-"

Malfurion gave a short wave of his hand that sent the vines tightening around Illidan's wrists and the warglaives falling from his grip. "Too much blood has been spilled on your account," he said, eyes narrowed and the words twinged with the traces of his own bitterness. "Imprisonment will not be enough this time."

"I will execute him myself," Maiev volunteered eagerly.

Letting out a feral snarl, Illidan gave a final, desperate jerk at the vines. "My fight is not with you," he tried. But it seemed that they were not looking for reason or answers, only validating their own self-righteousness. Their minds had been made up about him from the moment they had imprisoned him, or perhaps even before then, when he had been granted the so-called gifts of Sargeras himself. They had never seen Illidan as anything more than a monster, a black spot in their illuminated lives, a darkness that needed to be locked away or crushed out. They had never acknowledged his efforts or contributions, only his transgressions, and they had condemned him time and time again. This time would be no different.

Still, he thought, his words were all he had left to offer in his defense, some last hope that Malfurion, at least, might think with logic instead of blind feelings. "I meant only to target the leader of this Scourge and put an end to him."

"At what cost?" His brother demanded, shaking his head furiously. Almost against his will, certainly without any consideration for their impact, he blurted out abruptly, "Tyrande is _dead_ because of you."

And just like that, time grinded to a halt around them and the very moment seemed to shatter. Malfurion's shoulders slumped under the weight of the words, and even Maiev felt herself lowering both her weapon and her chin, tilting her head away from the Druid. All traces of fight faded from Illidan's eyes, the corrupted presence within him seeming to subside, replaced with this overwhelming sense of dread, this welling panic in his chest. "N-No," he stammered out, shaking his head like maybe if he just kept denying it then he could prevent the words from being true. "She cant be- I didn't mean-"

Clearing his throat to reiterate his presence, Kael took a slow step forward, hesitant to intrude on what he could clearly gather was some very intimate moment. "Pardon, Lord Stormrage," he murmured, glancing up through his lashes. "But it may be...premature to assume that the High Priestess is dead. While it is true that we saw her thrown from the bridge, there is a possibility that she may have washed up somewhere along the shoreline-"

"Silence, Kael'thas!" Maiev roared, whirling on him with danger flashing in her eyes.

But it was too late; the damage was already done. The words had been spoken, and even if Kael had no idea the impact they bore, Maiev did, and Malfurion did. And so, a moment later, it was her at which his wrath had been directed, all barking words and blazing fires in his eyes. "You told me she was torn apart,Shadowsong _,_ " he growled. "You _lied_ to me?"

Shaking her head, Maiev stumbled back a few steps, nearly tripping over the stones that had been torn free in her attempt to regain some distance between them. "Shan'do," she pleaded, eyes widening. Very few things still had the capacity to evoke and real fear in her, but Malfurion's anger, paired with his agony over losing his wife, was certainly one. Now, it would seem the only option that remained was coming clean from her lies. "Capturing the Betrayer was our primary focus. I knew that if there was even a chance Tyrande had lived, you would go after her, and our chances to stop him would be lost-"

In a swift blur of movement, the vines that had been untangled from around Illidan and whipped through the air to ensnare her instead, leaving her trapped under the weight of his loathing stare. "Just who is the betrayer now, Warden?" He snarled. Turning instantly, he stood face to face with his brother, some of his anger giving way to his renewed distress. "I must go to her immediately."

Illidan took a stumbling step forward, his own features arranged in a pleading look. "Brother," he begged, "believe me, despite all of our differences, you know that I would never lead Tyrande to harm." Malfurion's gaze travelled over him, spiraled tattoos and tattered wings and rising horns- but somewhere beyond the demon-corrupted creature he had become, he was still Illidan, still undeniably of his own flesh and blood. And he was standing before him now, asking for forgiveness, offering to help because Tyrande needed them, both of them, and for the brief moment, it was as if nothing had ever changed at all. "Please, let me help you."

From where she remained behind them, struggling to tear through the trap that kept her, Maiev let out an enraged snarl. "After all that he has done, you would trust this- this _traitor?!"_

Malfurion spared no more than a glance over his shoulder at the Warden. "At the moment, more than I trust you."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Being an adult is stupid and makes it ridiculously hard to keep up with any sort of consistent fanfic schedule. HOWEVER, there is now a release date for the Illidan book that is pretty much going to single-handedly ruin all of my headcanons, so you can almost certainly guarantee completion of Retribution before it is released in early April. Because I'd like to finish before the canon comes along and blows up every little gap I filled in with my own ideas. It'll be like a game. Surprise chapters- you never know when I'm going to post them :P**

 **...**

 _ **ten**_

The first thing to which Tyrande became aware was the aching, throbbing pain that seemed to resonate in every part of her body. It resounded in each bone, pulsated in each muscle, made her shoulders slump and her eyes feel heavy as she rolled onto her side and forced herself to cough up the water that had filled her lungs.. A muffled groan on her lips, she lifted a hand with a vast amount of effort and tried to call upon the Light of Elune to offer some restorative powers. The pale golden glow twisted around her in shimmering strands, seeping into her pores and reviving her strength, until she was finally able to push herself up, half sitting but mostly leaned back onto her outstretched hand behind her.

Blinking slowly, she tried to clear away some of the lingering dizziness and exhaustion that had overcome her, tried to make some sense of her surroundings. The white cloth of her dress was ruined with grass stains and splattered dirt, and her long tresses of hair were snarled and matted with leaves, dripping river water that splashed against her clothing and bare flesh. Her memories came back to her in flickering, shattered pieces- the Undead had been advancing, far too many for them to fight off, and she had done all that she could to save the others. She had fallen, fallen, crashed into the icy cold water below, and the currents must have carried her here, wherever that was.

Her strength was limited, and with each rise and fall of her chest, she could feel it waning, fading. Each ragged breath was harder than the last, and keeping her eyes open long enough to maintain focus on anything was even more of a challenge. The world around her blurred together, colors blending into a nauseating rainbow that swam around her until all she could think to do was close her eyes just to block it out. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Tyrande didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to save herself. She didn't know if she was strong enough to even try.

It was the snapping sound of a branch somewhere in the distance that forced her to open her eyes once more. Blinking to try and bring her vision back into focus, she peered into the shadows and tried to make out the figures shambling towards her. A bright glimmer of hope made her believe that perhaps it might have been the Warden or the Blood Elven prince, having tracked her down and come to rescue her. But that hope was shattered when she realized the figure coming towards her was not an elf at all, but a half-rotted corpse, another of the endless Scourge, and he was followed closely by a band of allies.

Grimacing, Tyrande tried to push herself up, tried to crawl back to keep some of the distance between them. But her body seemed unable to obey her, and for a moment, she was frozen, trapped, paralyzed as they inched closer and all the priestess could do was stare up into the literal face of death and pray that this was not where she would meet her own end.

And as she always did, Elune answered her prayers, but it was far from in the way that Tyrande might have expected. Before the Undead could come any closer, the ground trembled and the air shook with a mighty thud, as Illidan Stormrage landed between the approaching enemies and the fallen priestess. His leathery wings were outstretched to their full span, casting a dark shadow over everything around him, and he clutched the glaives menacingly, waving them before him to beckon the skeletons forth into battle. He spared but a second to glance back at her before launching forward into combat; his movements were unnaturally fast, irregular and unpredictable as he sliced through each body and left them in irreparable pieces.

At last, when all of the Undead had been defeated, and a heavy silence had fallen over them, interrupted only by the dull and steady sound of the currents along the shoreline, Illidan folded in his wings and slung the war glaives over his back, and made his way to Tyrande's side in a few easy strides. He dropped down to his knees in an instant, reaching out to pull her up into his lap, cradling her there as his fingers strayed over her skin. From this proximity, her luminescence was blindingly bright, the white glow of her aura filling his entire vision until it was all that existed, until it had blotted out everything else. "Are you hurt?" He asked, doing all in his power to keep his tone even, to keep his own warring emotions locked away where they couldn't do anyone any more harm. "Tyra, talk to me. Please. I need to know you're alright."

It was the sound of her name- her nickname, the one that he'd been using since they were children- that sent her over the edge. Her arms lifted to encircle his waist as she buried her face against the heat of his skin and, for what must have been the first time in as long as she could remember, she allowed herself to cry. She cried for all that they had lost- for the fallen Kaldorei, and their destroyed homelands, and the days of innocence when it had been she and Illidan and Malfurion without a single care in all the world. She cried for the love that she had sacrificed, for the chance that she had never taken, for the decisions she had made that had prevented her from ever getting to hear Illidan say her name so softly and so sweetly, as he had in that moment. She cried, and Illidan held her against him, unfurling his wings and wrapping them around her like maybe he could shield her from all the rest of the world, like maybe for just one single moment, he could be the one to keep her safe.

Illidan wasn't sure how long they stayed there like that, only that it didn't seem nearly long enough. Still, in time, he forced himself to loosen his hold on her and ease her into a sitting position. "Hush," he murmured, his tone surprisingly gentle, the demonic energies that moved within him apparently having subsided for the time being. Tyrande twisted her body around to look at him, pressing a hand to his chest, slender fingers resting upon the carved indentations of his markings.

"You saved my life," she murmured, dipping her chin slightly, though not so much that she was unable to look up at him through her lashes.

Tentatively, Illidan lifted a hand of his own to push her matted hair back from her face, tucking the tangled strands behind one of her elongated ears. "Consider us even, then," he replied, the words almost tinged with some teasing amusement. "Though I would have come to save your life even if you had not saved my own."

Tyrande closed her eyes for a moment far too long, recalling the last time that they had met, the way that he had shoved her down and looked straight through her like he had never seen her in his life. A part of her truly believed that this was all the work of the demonic magic he had consumed, there he was being torn apart from within, and that the man who had held her as she cried was the true Illidan, the one that she had known and loved. But it was impossible for her to look past the horrors that he had done, the wrongs that he had committed. She could forgive, and she could declare their debts repaid, but she could never forget, and so she could never fully heal from the lingering wounds that he had left on her heart.

After another long moment, Illidan pushed her carefully from his lap and stood, extending out a hand to help her to her feet. She took it, lacing their fingers together and keeping the hold even as she used her free hand to smooth out the creases from her ruined robes. For a moment, they stood there face to face, neither of them knowing what to say but neither seeming eager to let this moment shatter around them.

It was Illidan that finally brought it crashing down around them. "Let's go," he said then, turning away from her, letting her hand slip from his grasp.

The priestess took but a single step in his direction. "Go?" She repeated faintly, brows pulling together. "Where are you taking me?"

Illidan threw a quick glance back at her over his shoulder, hesitating for a moment like he was trying to memorize the exact shade of her glow, the precise intensity of her radiance. "Back to Malfurion," he stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You didn't think I was just going to drag you off and keep you for myself, did you?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then let's go," he repeated at once, turning his gaze forward and starting off once more. But he must have made it only two steps, his hooves kicking up little clouds of dust around his ankles, before he came to a halt. "Unless," he said slowly, and Tyrande thought she might have made out the slightest of amused smirks tugging at the corners of his lips. "Unless you _wanted_ me to drag you off and keep you to myself."

His taunting playfulness was contagious, if only because she couldn't even recall the last time she had seen him like that, had seen him let his guard down so very much. Like after all that had happened, all the gaps that had come between them and all the cracks that had shattered her memory of the boy she once cherished so very much, he had found enough sense of peace to let that part of him show. Like for the moment, at least, she could truly believe that Illidan, _her_ Illidan, was still in there somewhere, struggling under the weight of the choices that he had made.

In a few strides she had fallen into place at his side- they were uneven and swaying, for the entirety of her strength had yet to return to her- and shot a glance at him from the corner of her eye. "You _want_ me to _want_ that," she retorted, lifting her chin as she waited for his own reply.

But the teasing remark that she had been expecting never came; instead, she got a shadow falling over her as he stepped into her path, tilting his head towards her and bringing a hand to rest gently against her upper arm. "Perhaps," he murmured, and all at once the atmosphere lost that light and playful tone, jolting back to the heavy severity. Illidan trailed his fingertips up the skin of her arm, sparking little flames everywhere he touched, up her neck and then along the length of her jawline, pausing before he reached her slightly parted lips. "But I know that any chance for that is behind us now."

Tyrande felt her brows knit together, felt her mouth open and close several times without any sound ever actually making it past her throat. He spoke truthfully, and of course she knew that. She had made her choices, not once but twice, and neither of them had been in his favor. She had seen the things he was capable of, had seen the way the demonic magic with which he flirted so freely had twisted and changed him, not only physically but internally as well, over and over again. No, she had made her choices, and she knew that she wouldn't have changed her mind even if she could, and she knew that it was unfair to have ever given Illidan the impression that she would.

This time, it was her that shouldered past him. "Let's go," she said quickly, repeating his own words back to him. Flitting his wings behind him, he was left with no choice but to follow after her. Once upon a time, he thought, he might have given anything to walk beside her as he did now. But for that single moment, Illidan thought that he was just grateful to get to stand in the radiance of her glimmering light one last time.

…

Maiev wasn't sure how long she had been struggling against the vines that Malfurion had put in place around her, only that it wasn't going well. Her weapon lay at her feet, out of her reach, and they were far too thick for her to simply tear through with her bare hands. Every second that was wasted stood between her and Illidan, separated them, allowed him to get away from her all over again.

And this time, he was not alone, but was assisted in his escape by the very people that had damned him into her care to begin with. It was sickening, it was against everything that she knew to be true, and she would not have it.

It wasn't long until the Watchers found her. They had been dealing with the last of the naga forces on their own, as the other factions of allies seemed to have made themselves scarce in the absence of their respective leaders. Or perhaps they had retreated to their base camp alongside Prince Kael'thas, that traitor. The very thought of the young elf made Maiev scowl; if not for his apparent inability to keep his mouth shut, she never would have been in this situation to begin with. She should have known better than to trust anyone else in helping her with _her_ mission. It was the interference of others- one other in particular- that had liberated Illidan in the first place and set off this whole disaster.

Cordana skidded to a halt in front of her mistress, weapon at the ready and still slick and gleaming with blood. "Warden, are you alright?" She asked hurriedly, using her blade to carefully cut through the bindings until her commander was able to stumble forward. "What happened? Where is the Betrayer?"

In a swift motion, Maiev bent down to retrieve her weapon, gripping tightly as she used her free hand to adjust the placement of her plated armor. "Gone," she sneered. "Again."

Cordana's long, emerald brows pulled together in a deep frown as she shook her head slowly. "I don't understand," she answered slowly. "We had him, it was over-"

" _Tyrande_ ," Maiev huffed, brushing past her lieutenant and scanning the area around them like some great sign might appear to point her in the right direction. "Malfurion and Illidan set off to find her, convinced there was some chance she may yet live." Sliding the umbra crescent into his proper place across her back, she balled her hands into fists at her sides, gauntlets groaning slightly as they scraped against themselves. "She has interfered for the last time in this. From now on, we are on our own."

With that, she started off, a new determination in her hurried steps, leaving Cordana and the others to follow after her. "But Mistress Shadowsong," the younger elf said, when at last she had managed to retain a close enough pace so as not to fall behind. "If the Betrayer has been pardoned by Shan'do Stormrage-"

Maiev came to an abrupt halt, turning sharply on her heel to face Cordana fully. "If Shan'do Stormrage has pardoned the Betrayer, we can only assume he has done so from a lapse in clarity and judgment, and will continue our pursuit regardless. I vowed an eternity to Illidan, and that is precisely what I intend to give him."

…

Some time later, Malfurion found himself pacing along the banks of the river Arevass, pausing every few moments to scan the rushing waves like he expected his brother and Tyrande to burst right out of the depths. A few paces away lingered Kael'thas; most of their forces had departed for the camp, but he had opted to stay with the Druid, an offering of what little support his presence could provide, since he had been the one to confess the truth of Tyrande's near-demise.

"What is taking so long?" Malfurion asked frantically, spinning around towards the young prince. Kael could clearly see the worry etched into his face, the evidence of the love that he bore for the High Priestess. "They should have been back by now."

Wondering idly if he would have been better off back at the base with the rest of the Sindorei, Kael gave a helpless shrug, the most he could think to do. "Are you sure it was wise to entrust someone you once condemned?" He stated quietly, unsure if his opinions, irrelevant as they were, would be welcomed.

A brief look of doubt flickered across Malfurion's face, but it was gone in an instant. "Illidan would not hurt Tyrande," he responded, and Kael was surprised by the assurance in his tone, the genuine confidence in those words, instead of sounding like he was trying to convince himself of the truth behind them. "We have had our differences, but there is one line he would not cross."

Ignoring the curiosity that the words awoke within him, Kael made himself busy by picking imaginary dust from the sleeves of his robes and smoothing out the tangles from his hair. When the silence had gone on too long, he stole another glance back at the ancient elf. "And what, if you don't mind me asking, are your intentions for him now? Do you still plan to hand him over to the Warden?"

Malfurion hadn't had the time to devote any real thought to that, not with far more pressing matters occupying his mind, but the realization hit him then that a decision would need to be made, and it would fall to him, once more, to decide the fate of his own twin. Long ago, he had never imagined that they would ever be apart, but of course the weight of reality had crushed any naive fantasies from him long ago.

It seemed that now he would have no time for such thoughts either, for a moment later the very air around them shifted, rotating and drawing in on itself before it suddenly swirled and exploded into a portal, and Illidan stepped into view with Tyrande leaning into his side for support. The moment the portal had collapsed, Malfurion rushed to stand before them, extending his arms so that the priestess could collapse forward against his chest. For a moment, all else was forgotten, and all he could think to do was crush her to his chest, pressing his lips to the top of her head, breathing out a long sigh of relief. "I thought I had lost you forever, my love," he whispered softly, pulling back enough that he could meet her stare. Glancing up past her head at the place where his brother stood, he added, "If not for Illidan's aid, I surely would have."

Nodding in understanding, Tyrande slipped from his grasp, retracing her steps towards Illidan, reaching out to take one of his hands in both of her own, tracing faded scars and calloused fingertips. "You saved me," she murmured, looking up at him through thick lashes, and before she thought any better of it, she had gone up on her tiptoes to press a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Thank you, Illidan."

Stunned and motionless, he stared back into her luminance, shifting his hold so that he could give her small hand a slight squeeze. "Whatever I may be, whatever I may become in this world, know that I will always look out for you, Tyrande. If ever you need anything of me, you need only call on me." He hesitated for only a moment before releasing his hold on her, letting go of her for the final time. It felt almost liberating, like a great shadow that had been cast over him or some unseen force bearing down on him from all directions had finally lifted away, and he could breathe without the burden of his unrequited love for the first time in all of his life.

Stepping past her, he came to stood before Malfurion. "We have had much strife between us, my brother," he began slowly, swallowing hard, trying to find the words to say. For once, he spoke from his own heart, his own feelings, and not the clouded judgment of his own rage and bitter resentment. For once, he was free. "I have known only ages of hate for you. But, for my part, I wish it to end. From this day forward, let there be peace between us." 

For a few prolonged seconds, Malfurion faltered. He let his eyes fall shut, watching as memories flickered across his mind, and all the while Illidan watched as the earthly colors of his aura danced before him. When he opened them again, it was with a serious expression that his brother couldn't see, but could somehow feel in all the space between them. "You have brought much suffering to the world, Illidan. For that,  
you can never be forgiven."

Illidan was quick to open his mouth, no doubt ready to defend himself, but Malfurion was quicker to raise a hand before him, speaking again immediately. "However, you saved the life of my love. For that I will let you go. But, should you ever threaten my people again…" The rest of that sentence went without saying. Malfurion watched blankly as his twin gave a sharp nod, clearly affected by the weight of his horns.

"I understand, brother," he said assuredly. "Thank you. And…" Pausing, he stole one final look at Tyrande, in all her radiance, but it was not with resentment or even remorse. "Take care of her."

In spite of the whole situation, Malfurion allowed a small smirk of his own. "Haven't I always?"

From her place at his side, Tyrande scoffed. "I am more than capable of taking care of myself," she retorted, and for those few blissful seconds, it was like they were children all over again. But those seconds soon passed, and they all knew that it was long past time to stop clinging to the memories.

"Goodbye, then," Illidan murmured. "I doubt our paths will cross again from where I am going." Turning from them then, he gave a short flick of his wrist, the atmosphere shifting as the portal reappeared, and without so much as a single backward glance, he vanished into the unknown.

Tyrande felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes, the threat of them causing her throat to constrict. "So that's the end, then?" She asked hoarsely. "What shall we do-"

"What have you done?!" The desperately frantic cry of sheer horror destroyed the last serenity of the moment, the surrealism that seemed to have settled in around them. With a frown, Tyrande whirled around to find the source of the shouted words barreling towards them with a murderous expression etched into her features.

The High Priestess felt her own hands ball into fists, cheeks ablaze with her inner fires as she glared at the Warden with all the loathing she could muster. "Shadowsong," she hissed. "How dare you accuse us of anything, when you left me for dead-"

Maiev had barely a glance in her direction to spare as she stopped before the portal, flanked by her Watchers. "Have you no sense of justice?" She screeched, her glowing eyes flitting to Malfurion's own stoic and composed face.

"Warden Shadowsong, calm yourself, please," he said simply, evenly.

If she had heard him at all, she gave no indication. "How could you let him go?" She demanded of the Druid. "That was my decision to make. Were you not the one that ordered him into my charge in the first place? You had no right!"

Her frustration getting the better of her, Tyrande narrowed her eyes at the younger woman. "Illidan has atoned for his crimes. Can you say the same?"

Baring her teeth, Maiev's gaze shifted from Tyrande to Malfurion, and then to the portal that had yet to close. She found herself standing at the edge of some great emotional cliff, in which her options were clear. She could either to turn back, to walk away and lay this part of her life to rest forever, find some new purpose and drive to motivate her through her meaningless life, or she just dive headlong into the unknown, and finish the task that she had been granted or perish in her attempts.

She didn't even hesitate in choosing the jump. Sucking in a greedy breath and steeling herself for whatever might come next, she threw a pointed glare at Tyrande. "I do this for the protection of our people. Can you say the same?"

The High Priestess let out a small sigh, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "I had hoped that we were past all of this, Warden."

But Maiev was quick to shake her head. "No," she replied. "It'll never be over, not until he is dead." And with that, she lunged forward into the portal, swallowed up by the swirling colors and disappearing into the abyss.

"Mistress!" Cordana gasped out. She took a quick step forward, but Malfurion grabbed onto her arm to hold her back.

"Cordana," he said softly, "don't damn yourself by her choices."

But she shook him off without a second thought, glancing back desperately at the other Watchers. "We too swore a binding oath," she reminded them. She didn't bother waiting for a reply before following Maiev through the portal. One by one, the others trailed behind her, until the last of the Watchers had gone, and the portal closed behind them.

In the silence that followed, Tyrande could think of nothing more to do than glance helplessly at her husband. The Druid heaved a great sigh, shouldered slumped as he met her gaze. "It's no use, Tyrande. She has become vengeance itself, bound forever to the hunt. I only pray that in her zeal, she doesn't cause even more havoc than Illidan."

Nodding numbly, the priestess turned away, wrapping her arms around herself as a shiver moved down her spine. She felt strangely empty, like all that they had worked to do was finally finished and now there was nothing left to fight for. Still, if there was one lesson that she had learned in all her years, it was that the battle was never truly over, and more danger would always come to find them.

...

None of them dared speak until they had returned to camp. Once the others were assured that all was well, Tyrande sought out the elven prince, found him sitting cross legged beside a fire, Rommath at his side as always.

"Prince Kael'thas," she greeted, when he had risen to his feet. "Your aid has been a great help to us all. Is there anything more we can offer to your people?"

The blonde lifted his shoulder in a slight shrug. "You have already done more than I dared to ask," he replied evenly. "My people's struggle is our own. I pray in time we will find the solution to our afflictions."

With a faint smile of appreciation, she bowed her head slightly in a show of respect. "May Elune guide you, then," she responded. "Pray you have the courage and serenity to do what is both needed and just."

The prince was quick to return her gesture. "And what of you and the other Kaldorei?" He asked her then. "What will you do now?"

She threw a quick glance over her shoulder, spotted Malfurion a few yards off talking idly with some of the other Druids and Sentinels. When she looked back to Kael, it was with a grin, and this time it was genuine, if not tinged with the slightest traces of sorrow. "We will go home," she answered. "And be free at last from this whole ordeal. I think it's long past time to lay it all to rest."


	12. Chapter 12

**A very long and semi emotional letter from the author~**

 **Okay, I just want to say a few things here (feel free to skip this, of course).**

 **When I first started this trilogy back in September of 2014, I had no idea what I was doing. I'd played WoW on and off for a few years, but more so as something to do in my freetime, never really with the intention of getting involved in the lore. I struggled with a lot of issues, as everyone does, and it was always easy to distract myself with it.**

 **It wasn't until I accidentally found myself reading the wiki about Maiev Shadowsong that I realized what a beautiful, in-depth universe I'd been hanging out in. It pretty much went all downhill (uphill?) from there. I wanted to know everything about everything. I fell in love with everything I read, every character and story. I leveled five characters to max and have probably thirty alts scattered throughout, each of which has their own working story. I explored zones. I read novels. I read fanfic. I watched lore theory videos for twelve hours at a time.**

 **I guess the point I am trying to make is that WoW (and the Warcraft Universe in general) is a phenomenal game that has a very real effect on everyone that plays, whatever the reason may be. I've seen a lot of hate over the past few years for a lot of different things, and I'm sure most of you have too, but regardless of what draws you to the game, regardless of your faction or race or class, we're all united in the love we have for it in the first place.**

 **I watched the movie trailer way too many times before writing this.**

 **But anyway. I would like to give a massive thanks to everyone that has stuck with me throughout this series, and everyone that came along the way. I am eternally grateful for every review, every follow, and every message I have gotten since starting this. A particularly special shout out to Blame the Priest, who has been my constant beta, and who has become one of the greatest friends I have ever known. It's the readers that have pushed me to keep going, to see this through to the end, and to always strive to be better. I'm proud of how this has all come together, but I can just as honestly say that I am ready to move on. A year and a half is a long time to devote to the same three characters.**

 **Again, thank you, truly. Maybe I'll see some familiar names popping up on my future projects.**

 **Much love xx -Skye**

…

 _ **epilogue**_

 _ **six years later**_

It was the echoing of his hooved steps against the rock floor of the Warden's Cage that gave him away, long before he appeared in front of the bars that held her. Maiev had long since made herself comfortable, or at least as much as was possible, in the furthest corner of the cramped cell, with her knees drawn to her chest and her heavy emerald cloak draped around her. She wasn't sure how long she'd been there, whether it had been days or weeks or months, only that there was some sick, twisted irony in it all. She might have laughed, only the mere thought of it was enough to send a ripple of pain through her.

Six years.

Six agonizing, brutal years. Six years spent wandering aimlessly, walking in circles, always two steps behind.

Six years Maiev Shadowsong had spent traipsing around Outland in search of the Betrayer.

And for what? Cordana and the rest of the Watchers had left her long ago, deeming this little more than a suicide mission, telling her that she was insane, obsessed, and scurrying back to Malfurion Stormrage to beg for his forgiveness. They had abandoned her to fend for herself in the remnants of a shattered world, a world that had been forsaken just as she had, a world that now belonged to Illidan and his forces.

Six years, but really, it had been thousands more. Their lives had been tangled together for so long that it was damn near impossible to tell where one ended and one began, where Illidan left off and Maiev started. Vicious cycles. They were all trapped in a game that no one really knew how to win and no one really wished to play.

And now she was here, trapped in this cage, locked behind bars. Now, everything had come full circle. It might have made her laugh if it didn't make her want to cry- not from the defeat, but because she was tired, she was vacant, she was empty. She had lost whatever had driven her in the first place. She was nothing, knew nothing but this endless chase and the certainty that neither of them would ever stop until one of them was dead.

Illidan appeared then, on the other side of the cell, all snarling glares and an aura of dread that clung to him everywhere he went. Once her heart had leapt at the mere thought of him. Now, she stared back with lifeless eyes, didn't even bother to move from her place on the ground. The few times that he had been there to see her, it had been strictly to gloat, rubbing it in her face that after all this time the tables had turned, and now she was the one behind bars and he was the one on the outside watching in. She had taken each insult as gracefully as she could, her face impassive as she listened to each of his mocking words and wondered idly to herself what happened to the boy that she had once loved. For surely this was not him; no, this was a stranger an imposter, a demon that had taken his form, that had corrupted him until little remained of the boy she remembered from so many thousands of years ago.

But this time was different, and she could tell as soon as she saw him. This time he did not look as though he had come to brag, for he did not look victorious at all. Instead his brows were drawn together over his unseeing eyes and his lips were turned down into something between a frown and the scowl. This time it was hard to believe that it was the demon with which she had become familiar that she was gazing at, for if she dared to look closely enough, Maiev swore that traces of Illidan still lingered in his features.

The Warden had to take a breath to steady herself and remind herself that there was nothing left for her there, nothing left for them-if there ever been anything between them to begin with. It was so hard to tell now, all of her memories blurring together, her love and her hatred blending into one emotion that she herself couldn't even begin to comprehend.

She waited silently for some time, waited for him to speak, to say anything at all, but no words ever seemed to make it past his lips. When he did finally speak, the words came out soft and rushed, barely even audible. "Kael is gone," he said slowly, and it took her far longer than she cared to admit to realize that he was upset by this, to recognize the sadness that dripped from his words. However, no matter how long she tried, Maiev couldn't bring herself to understand Illidan had thought this worth coming to see her, why he would think she would care enough to bother, like they were still the greatest of friends that confided in each other everything.

After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Maiev brought herself to clear her throat and find her voice. "Kael was a traitor from the start," she told him. It was hard to hide her own bitterness, for she remembered while a time when the young Elven prince had fought beside her and offered his aid in destroying the very same demon that he had come to join forces with. It was hard to hide her bitterness about much of anything when she was caged and forced to endure the antagonizing of her sworn rival. Especially because it was hard to ignore the fact that she understood clearer than ever why Illidan had resented her for all the years that he had been the one in the chains.

"Yes," Illidan murmured softly, bowing his head under the weight of his horns. "Everyone is gone." He paused for a long moment before glancing up at her. Not for the first time, she wondered what his emerald eyes saw as the roamed over her body. "And yet, you are still here. Amusing, isn't it?"

"I'm just dying of laughter," Maiev retorted plainly, her voice completely even.

Illidan's own features remained composed as he continued watching her; she hoped that whatever he saw, he couldn't make out the way she fought off the urge to squirm uncomfortably under his piercing emerald gaze. "It's interesting," he said then, slowly, like he wasn't really sure he wanted to speak the words aloud. "After all this time, it's always come back to you and I."

"Did you come here for a reason?" Maiev snapped suddenly, lurching forward, her armor creaking against itself. "Or simply to further my misery for your own entertainment? Because I assure you, Stormrage, you have done enough to torment me over the years that this is all becoming rather redundant. You have made it abundantly clear that you don't love me, that you never have loved me, and that you never will love me. I assure you, I have gotten the message. So if you've come because you're lonely in the absence of your little princeling plaything, I have no sympathy for you, and I would appreciate if you'd let me return to my solitude."

Illidan snarled as his hands wrapped tightly around the bars, his wings flaring up slightly along with his anger. "You are hardly in a position to mock me, Warden," he hissed at her.

"Why not?" She scowled right back, tilting her head to the side and peering at him through narrowed eyes. In a flash, she was on her feet, a blur of motion that darted across the room and collided with the bars so that little more than mere inches between them, wrapping her own hands so tightly around the metal that her knuckles went white. "If you wanted me dead, you'd have killed me by now."

To that, Illidan said nothing, and Maiev felt a vicious smile tug at her lips, one that looked far more like a grimace. "I don't care if it takes the rest of our lives," she said then, turning away, taking a deep breath in attempt to regain her composure as she retreated to the far side of the cell. "You and I will never stop until it's over, and we both know it."

This time, it was Illidan's turn to grin back at her, equally as malicious as her own. In so many ways they were so alike, bound in their madness and their hatred and their cursed fates that had left them stranded here in Outland. They had spent the last ten thousand years trying to destroy each other with the idea that maybe that was love.

And if she was being totally, completely honest with herself, Maiev wasn't entirely sure that she would change a thing. Because maybe it wasn't love, not in the way she had imagined it when she was younger, but it was the closest they had ever come to it. And maybe it was madness, but it was theirs and theirs alone, and in a world that had completely crumbled around them and a life that had never gone as planned, it was all that they had left.

Maiev threw a glance back at him over her shoulder, and for the slightest of seconds, that familiar fire sparked in her eyes. "Your move, Stormrage. I'll be waiting."

 _ **end**_


End file.
